


Hedges Against the Night

by ConstantWriter85



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Battle of Wakanda (Avengers: Infinity War), Blood and Injury, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Character Death, Comfort/Angst, Depressed Steve Rogers, Depression, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity Gauntlet, Injury Recovery, Love Triangles, Major Character Injury, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Permanent Injury, Polyamory, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Reader-Insert, Recovery, References to Depression, Romantic Friendship, Scars, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantWriter85/pseuds/ConstantWriter85
Summary: When Bucky dies in The Snap, your world comes crashing down around you. True to his word, Steve is there to pick up the pieces as you spiral into depression. But what happens when two grieving friends become something more?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 177
Kudos: 242





	1. Chapter 1

Dawn comes early to Wakanda, stealing over the edges of the mountains and turning the leaves green-gold in the morning light. In the valley, the tall grass waved in the soft breeze. Sunlight was just beginning to stream through the open window of the tiny cottage at the edge of the valley. The gentle breeze wafted in, bringing with it the sweet scent of hay and jasmine.

Bucky’s eyes drifted open lazily, and for a while he just lay there, listening to the birds outside the window. He was completely and utterly at peace, his mind quiet.

Next to him, Y/N stirred in her sleep. He rolled over and watched her, the ghost of a smile on his face. A piece of her hair had fallen across her forehead, and he gently reached up and brushed it away, caressing her temple and cheekbone. She was beautiful, and it almost hurt to look at her.

Since the day they met, she had been kind and patient with him as he fought to overcome the Winter Soldier programming. Y/N was an empath, able to feel other’s emotions and influence them, and she used her gift to help him through it. So many nights where she had held him while he trembled as sobbed, breaking under the weight of the people he had killed and the lives he had shattered. It was her love—her understanding and her fierce belief that he was still a good man—that had brought him back from the brink.

If it hadn’t been for her, he would have been lost.

His thoughts drifted to the ring sitting in the nightstand next to him. It was simple and uncomplicated, just like her. A week ago, he had shown it to Steve, unable to keep an excited grin off his face.

_“What’s going on with you, Buck? You’ve been secretive—even for you.” Steve’s face was concerned, and Bucky almost laughed out loud as he pulled the ring from his pocket._

_“I’m going to do it, Steve. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”_

_Steve’s eyes widened in surprise and his face lit up with a genuine smile. He wrapped his arms around Bucky and drew him into a tight embrace._

_“Oh, Buck…I’m so happy for you. I don’t know of two people better suited for each other or more deserving of happiness then you two.”_

_Bucky smiled back at him, his face flushed with excitement. “I’m gonna ask her this weekend…”_

Beside him, Y/N rolled over and blinked blearily up at him, breaking his train of thought. He smiled at her as she snuggled closer, clearly not wanting to be up yet.

“Hey beautiful.” He trailed kisses along her jawline, and she giggled.

“How are you up already? ‘S not normal.” she mumbled into his chest, hiding her face. He laughed and gestured to the window, where sounds of the stirring livestock drifted in.

“They’re not gonna wait, doll.”

He ran his hand up under her shirt, caressing her back. “But I can think of something to help wake you up.”

Y/N gasped lightly as his fingers grazed the side of her breast. “Not fair,” she growled as she rolled on her back. He gently pulled off her shirt and trailed his fingers down her front, teasing over breasts.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He trailed kisses down her collarbone, his tongue teasing her nipple until it hardened, and she arched her back in pleasure. She moaned and took his face in her hands, hungrily pressing her mouth to his.

Bucky’s breath hitched and he moaned deep in his throat. His hand slipped down her stomach, grazing her inner thigh.

Y/N groaned and tangled her fingers in his hair. “Definitely not fair.” Bucky chuckled quietly and bit her lip playfully as he ran his fingers along her core. She was so incredibly wet, and he felt himself grow even harder.

He slipped a couple fingers inside her as she whimpered and arched against him. Increasing pressure, he kissed the length of her neck as she panted in his ear. She grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“No…I want you.” She took him in her hands, rubbing gently, and it was his turn to gasp. Bucky growled and rolled on top of her, cradling her head with his one good arm while she took him inside her. He moaned loudly as she ground her hips against him, and he gripped her hair tightly.

He slowly started to thrust, tenderly drawing her in for a kiss. They moved together, slowly at first then building momentum as they edged towards climax. Bucky panted and groaned as he felt her orgasm around him, her nails raking his shoulders. He buried his face in her neck, his movements becoming erratic as he released inside her. She shuddered and held him tightly, his heartbeat thudding against her chest.

Breathing heavily, Bucky rolled to his side and wrapped his right arm around her, drawing her close. He lightly kissed the tip of her nose and her forehead.

“Awake now?”

“You’re way better than an alarm clock.” She giggled, brushing back a lock of his hair that had fallen forward. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Not in the last five minutes, no.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“I love you too, Y/N. More than you could ever know.”

They held each other in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Hey doll…you didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?” When she didn’t respond, he looked down and was surprised to see her eyes clouded with worry.

“Y/N?” He tilted her face up so she was looking at him. “Honey…what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to fight anymore.” She whispered. “I’m--I’m afraid if we go back…I almost lost you once, and I’m afraid I’m going to lose you again.”

She felt the weight of Bucky’s emotions as they added to her own, and she choked back a sob as they threatened to engulf her.

“Shh…Y/N, honey. You’re not going to lose me—I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky gripped her tightly and ran his fingers up and down her back, tracing small circles down her spine. He thought again of the ring sitting in the drawer next to him.

She sighed and rolled over, looking at him. “I’m so happy here, Buck…with you. Everything is so simple here, and we can finally just--we can just be ourselves. No more running. No more fighting. I don’t ever want to leave.”

Bucky kissed her gently. “We don’t have to.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I don’t want to leave either. I’ve fought enough for two lifetimes, and I’m tired. I’m ready to stay right here.” He gently caressed the side of her face. “With you.”

***

Later that afternoon, Bucky was tending to the livestock while Y/N picked vegetables from the garden. Taking a break, he leaned up against the fencepost and watched her lean figure move up the rows. Her toned arms had been painted bronze by the sun, and her hair gleamed auburn in the afternoon light.

Bucky reached in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the ring, which he had slipped out of the drawer while she was dressing. Excitement and nerves made his stomach churn, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. He started to walk towards her but stopped as he saw the three figures top the hill and start down towards the cottage.

Y/N looked at him questioningly as she caught sight of T’Chella and Okoye.

Wordlessly, the guard opened the case he was carrying. T’Chella nodded to him, and Bucky walked forward apprehensively.

A new arm lay in the case, glinting in the afternoon light.

He closed his eyes, feeling his heart sink to his stomach. The ring in his pocket felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and he looked back at Y/N. She was shading her eyes against the bright sun and looking at him curiously.

Bucky sighed, feeling a grave weight settle in his chest. This changed everything.

“Where’s the fight?” He asked T’Chella softly.

“On its way.”

***

“She won’t listen to me, Steve.”

“What do you mean?”

“I tried to get her to stay behind with Shuri and guard Vision, but she won’t have it.” Bucky looked down and kicked at an anthill angrily. “It’s just---we’ve never faced anything like this before. I’m not…I don’t know if I can keep her safe from this.”

His voice broke on the last word, and Steve looked at his friend in alarm. Bucky stared out over the field as the Wakandan troops made their preparations. His eyes were wide and empty, the fingers of his new metal arm clenched tightly in a fist.

He was afraid.

“Just promise me you’ll get her out of here if this thing goes south…if I’m not around…”

“Buck—”

Bucky glanced up at his friend and gripped his arm firmly. “Steve…I need you to promise me…Promise me that if something happens to me—”

“Bucky, no.”

“No! Listen to me—I need you to promise that if anything happens to me, you’ll take care of Y/N. Watch out for her, make sure she’s okay. Please, Steve—I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Okay, Buck. Okay.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it. Jerk.” Steve pulled him in close and gave him a brief but tight hug.

“Punk.” Bucky smiled faintly and looked out over the field.

“Till the end of the line.”

He hoped to god it wasn’t today.

***

The woods were strangely quiet, muffling the sounds from the battle. Bucky scanned the tree line. He was exhausted—everything hurt, and blood trickled down his face from a gash on his forehead. He couldn’t stop, though…He had to find Y/N—he had to make sure she was safe.

Stumbling through the dense undergrowth, he caught a flash of purple light out of the corner of his eye as a bloodcurdling scream rang through the forest.

He found her in the clearing. She swayed on her feet and spat at the ground. Proxima Midnight lay dead at her feet, impaled upon her own spear. Y/N looked up and saw him coming towards her and her face broke out into a relieved smile.

“Bucky.” She breathed. It was then that he noticed her hand pressed to her side, blood seeping through her fingers. He ran to her as she stumbled into him.

_No…no no no!_

“Oh god…Y/N.” Bucky pulled her hand away from the wound and blood welled out, staining the leaves crimson. She gasped and grit her teeth as he pressed his hand against her side, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Shh…I’ve got you, doll. You’re going to be okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her against his chest.

Steve burst into the clearing, out of breath. “It’s Thanos—he’s here…we’ve got to—” He broke off as he caught sight of them. Bucky looked up at his friend, his expression grim.

“C’mon—I’ve got to get you out of here.” Bucky draped her arm over his shoulders, but she pushed him away and staggered to her feet.

“No…Buck…I’m okay. I can fight. We have to do this—all of us—together.” Bucky looked at her, uncertain. She was pale and trembling slightly, but her eyes burned with fire. He nodded, and the three of them began to run towards the sound of fighting.

Snap.

A bright light shot through the trees, and they heard Thor let out an anguished yell. They were blown off their feet by the force of the blast. Y/N picked herself up slowly, looking around for Bucky.

“Y/N?” His voice was unsteady.

Bucky reached out to her, and she gasped as his outstretched hand began disintegrating before her eyes. Eyes flicking up to Steve in horror, he stumbled forward as his legs blew away to dust.

“No!” She let out a choking sob and fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around him as he faded from her grasp. His eyes sought hers desperately.

“Y/N…I…I love…”

His eyes locked on hers, finishing the words as they too turned to ash.

And then he was gone, dust blown away in the wind.

Steve fell to his knees beside her and placed his hand on the ground where his friend had stood only moments before, his face twisted in grief.

Y/N felt her world tilt sideways, greying at the edges.

_Bucky…Bucky…_

She collapsed back as darkness closed in, unable to hear Steve calling her name.

The world faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! My first time writing smut. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter (poor Bucky--the ring!) and I'm really excited to see where it goes. Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get you tissues ready. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Angst, Depression, and Suicidal Thoughts. This work is very dark in the beginning and I promise it will get lighter, but this chapter has a lot of dark and suicidal thoughts. If this bothers you, please skip ahead.

**April-** **One Year Later**

“You get a reading on those tremors?” Nat stood behind the desk, addressing the holographic images of Nebula, Rocket, Okoye, Carol, and Rhodey.

“It was a mild subduction under the African plate.” Okoye answered.

“Do we have a visual? How are we handling it?”

“Nat…It’s an earthquake…We handle it by not handling it.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair and rubbed his hand along the scruff on his chin. These meetings were pointless.

One year…it had been one year to the day since Thanos had snapped his fingers, and this was the best they could do. Oh, they had hunted down and executed the titan—turns out they were great at avenging…just not so great at preventing. But now what—earthquakes and garbage scows?

He looked over to where Y/N was typing away distractedly on her computer, completely giving up the pretense of being interested in the meetings.

“Carol, are we seeing you here next month?” Nat asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

“Not likely.”

“What—you gonna get another haircut?” Rocket quipped.

Carol’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Listen fur-face…I’m covering a lot of territory. It’s been one year since the Snap, and the things that are happening on earth are happening everywhere. On thousands of planets.”

“Good point.” Rocket conceded.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Y/N stiffen. He didn’t need to be an empath to feel the sudden shift in the room’s energy, and he worried how the heightened emotion was affecting her.

Steve had been at her bedside when she first awoke after the Snap in Wakanda, her wound having been healed. She had asked where Bucky was, and he could see the confusion and disorientation in her eyes. Tears streaming down his face, he had to tell her that Bucky was dead, and the look on her face almost broke him. She had heartbreakingly thought it had all been a dream.

He could still hear her cries.

In the weeks following the Snap, Y/N had slipped in a near-catatonic state. He would find her staring blankly out the window or at Bucky’s picture, unmoving as a statue. She didn’t speak—she didn’t even seem to hear it when they spoke to her—and would only eat after Steve or Nat physically put food in front of her.

For a long time, Steve had been worried she would simply fade away…that she had given up on life completely.

Nine months ago, they had been over at Tony and Pepper’s house for the baby shower. It was a good memory, and for the briefest of moments the cloud of grief seemed to dissipate as the friends gathered to celebrate new life. They had been chatting and swapping baby stories, giving Tony a hard time about the prospect of changing diapers, when he turned around and realized Y/N wasn’t in the room.

Worriedly, he excused himself and searched through the house for her before he finally found her sitting on the swing down by the lake, staring out across the water. Steve’s shoulders slumped with relief and he heard Tony come up behind him.

_“How long has she been like that? Has she said anything at all?” Tony asked softly._

_“Ever since Wakanda.”_

_“I’m sorry, Rogers—I didn’t know…I didn’t think…” he chuckled bitterly. “Then again, I never do.”_

_“It’s not your fault Stark, you didn’t do anything wrong. Large crowds seem to upset her…all the emotions all at once.”_

_“Have you been taking care of her this entire time?”_

_“Nat helps out, but yes.” He looked at her, a sliver of a shadow, her dull eyes staring blankly as the sun set over the lake. She looked as if a strong breeze would blow her away. Yes, he took care of her, but he couldn’t reach her wherever she had gone._

_“Do you think maybe she would be better off in a—”_

_“No.” Steve cut him off angrily. “That’s…I can’t even think about that. I could never do that to her.” he sighed, running his hand through his hair._

_“I’m sorry Stark. It’s just that…Buck was my best friend. Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” He swallowed thickly, feeling his eyes start to burn. “And now he’s gone.”_

_Tony said nothing, just closed his eyes sadly._

_“Did you know he was going to ask her to marry him?” Steve asked._

_“No. I didn’t.”_

_“He never got the chance to ask her. He had the ring in his pocket when he…when he died. I promised him…He asked me to take care of Y/N if anything happened to him. So I am. And I’m not going to give up on her, because if I lose her too…then I’ll really have nothing left.”_

_Tony gripped his shoulder in an unusual show of sentiment and looked at the unmoving figure on the swing. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I know you’re trying to do what’s best for her. Barnes and I had a lot of history, but I know deep down he was a good man. He didn’t deserve that…none of them did.”_

_They were quiet for a moment, watching the figure sitting silently by the lake._

_“The kindest…the gentlest soul under this roof, and that bastard had to rip that apart too. You need anything Rogers—anything at all, you let me know.”_

Despite his hopeful words to Tony, Steve had felt emotionally drained after the party. He drove back to the Avengers Complex with Y/N slowly. She gazed listlessly out the window, a perfect representation of how he felt inside.

_I’m sorry Buck, I’m failing you._

He gripped the steering wheel and it creaked ominously. He couldn’t go back and continue this farce of normalcy. Not for one more second.

Morning found them in the city, parked next to the Brooklyn Memorial where names of those lost in the Snap had been engraved. It was his first time visiting it, and it was long overdue. He opened her door and she followed him obediently out, looking down at the ground. He wondered sadly if she even knew where she was.

He searched for a bit, and when he finally saw the name his stomach dropped like a lead weight.

JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES

He looked over at Y/N and saw she was looking at the name too. Or maybe she was looking through it. Tears streaming down his face, he choked back a sob and reached out, touching the name etched in the cold granite.

_“I miss you so much Buck…I’m sorry.”_

He felt a hand lightly touch his wrist. Immediately, he felt a rush of warmth and the pain in his chest eased a little. His grief and anguish weren’t gone completely, but he felt a layer of comfort flow through him that made it bearable. Startled, he looked down to see Y/N holding his hand.

Somehow, the strength of his grief had broken through her shell, and she had reached out to take some of his pain away—to comfort him.

He looked up and was surprised to see her looking back at him. She was actually seeing him. Still holding his hand, she turned back to the name and the tears began to fall as she lightly ran her fingers over it.

 _“Bucky.”_ It was barely a whisper, but it was there.

He gathered her in his arms gently, holding her as if she were made of glass. She buried her head in his neck.

_“I miss him.”_

Hearing those words gave him a reason to hope.

It was better after that day at the memorial. Y/N was talking again, going to the gym, even hanging out with them on movie night. At Nat’s suggestion she started working with Banner, putting her background as a molecular biologist to work. She even helped Steve with the support group he ran, which had surprised him. She didn’t say or do much-- as a rule, she avoided manipulating others’ emotions unless asked. It was too personal, she explained, and sometimes emotions need to be experienced in order to heal. Just her presence had a soothing effect, and the sessions were more productive because of it.

She was getting better. He worried about her, but she had come a long way from the empty shell she had been that night at Tony’s house. She never talked about Bucky, and everyone was very careful not to mention him in front of her. Her smile never quite met her eyes, but she was getting better. It just took time.

“Steve!” Nat’s voice broke him from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry…what?”

“I asked if you had anything else to add.” She said tiredly, her face drawn. This day was tough on all of them.

He cleared his throat. “Um, no…I’m good.”

The meeting broke up, and he hurried out into the hall to catch Y/N before she could leave.

“Hey—Nat and I are going to grab a bite to eat, do you want to join us?”

She shook her head. “No thanks, I’m tired and have a bit of a headache, I think I’m just going to call it an early night.”

“You sure? I know today is…it’s hard…it’ll help to be around friends.” He placed his hand on her elbow reassuringly and studied her face, trying to get a read on her. She was a little pale, and her eyes were dull and haunted, almost as they had been when—

Y/N touched his hand and smiled up at him, and he felt his worry melt away.

“Thanks Steve, really…but when you can feel everyone else’s emotions, it’s kind of the opposite of that. I’ll be fine.” She smiled again and squeezed his hand once before turning away.

Steve watched her walk down the hall, his brows knitted in concern. He felt a little uneasy about leaving her alone tonight, but he didn’t want to smother her. Bucky had accused him of that very thing…more than once. Y/N rounded the corner and was lost from view. She would be okay—she was a fighter.

She was getting better.

***

You shut the door behind you and let out a shuddering breath. You were a long way from fine.

You hated lying to Steve, but you really just wanted to be alone tonight. He was a good friend, and attentive almost to the point of annoyance—he hardly ever left your side. But you didn’t think you could bear his sympathetic, worried glances tonight.

You shrugged off your jacket and padded across the floor of her room. Having to constantly block everyone’s emotions out had given you a killer headache—you hadn’t lied about that part, at least. You walked into the bathroom and popped a couple of aspirin. Flopping on the bed, you tugged a pillow over your head and waited for them to take effect.

You rolled over on your side, and the necklace spilled out of your shirt, tumbling to the bed next to you. It was a pair of dog tags. One was an exact replica of Bucky’s tag from WWII; on the other was stamped your name and date of birth. You had made a matching set for each of you and had given them to him in Wakanda before he went back into cryofreeze to have the Hydra programming removed. A little sappy, you knew, but Bucky had loved them, tears forming in his eyes as he had held you that afternoon in Wakanda.

One tag to remind him of who he was—who he would always be to you. One tag to remind him that you would always be with him. You was his until the end of the line.

JAMES B BARNES

32557038 T42 -43 B

MR G M BARNES

160 STATE ST

NEW YORK NY P

You ran her fingers over the name, the warm metal worn smooth and shiny. Two sets of tags—except now there was only one. The other had been blown away to dust.

The breath hitched in your chest, and you felt your eyes start to burn. Now that your defenses were lowered, you could feel the emotions of those in the building seep into you. They were diluted because of the proximity, but they were there all the same.

Pain.

Anger.

Hopelessness.

Numbness settled over you. You slowly sat up and tugged a box out from under the bed. Setting it on the floor, you lifted the lid and looked in. Inside was everything you had left of him. You reached in and took out the top item—you had to touch him again, to feel his presence…and this was the only way you had left.

One by one, you laid out the contents on the floor. All of his notebooks. A comb. Ticket stubs from your first date. His favorite shirt. You lifted it to her face, inhaling deeply. Even after a year, it still smelled like him.

Tears running freely down your face, you pulled out the last item in the box. It was an old-fashioned photo album, like the ones they had used in the 1940’s with the little tabs on the corners to hold the pictures. Bucky hated digital photos—they just weren’t the same as being able to hold the picture in your hands.

It was the first time you had the courage to look at it. You thumbed through the pages. Here was one of the first photos taken of you together. Steve had taken it in front of the Smithsonian Museum the day you all went to visit the Howling Commandos Exhibit. In another photo, Sam was looking disgruntled holding a birdfeeder the team had given him as a gag gift, while Bucky and Steve roared with laughter in the background.

You turned the page. Bucky was smiling shyly at the camera as he sat on a bench, lacing up his boots. You had ambushed him while you both were getting ready for a mission, and he looked so adorably surprised you had snapped a photo. Another turn of the page, and there you both were—dancing at one of Tony’s ridiculous parties. It had been a slow dance, and Bucky had his arms wrapped around your waist and his cheek pressed against your hair. You didn’t know who had taken this photo, but you remembered that night like it was yesterday.

Here was one of the last photos taken of Bucky. Shuri had come to visit, and he was sitting in the grass, smirking up at her as she told an animated story. He wore a simple white tee and his hair was cropped short—he had cut it about a month before, saying long hair wasn’t suited to Wakandan summers. You had teased him—Bucky was notoriously vain about his hair—but you thought it looked good on him. Long or short hair, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

You reached the end of the album. The last photo was of you, standing on the porch of the cottage in Wakanda. Bucky had taken it. You were wearing a light, summery dress and looking at the camera with radiant adoration, your hair stained auburn by the setting sun. Numbly, you closed the album—you didn’t even know who that person was anymore.

Your eyes fell on the photo sitting on your nightstand. It had been taken that same day. With shaking hands, you took the photo down and carefully pried it free of the fame. Bucky was smiling at you, clean shaven with his hair brushed back from his face as he leaned against the railing. His blue-grey eyes stared out of the photograph with such obvious love that for a moment, they almost seemed real.

But they weren’t. None of it was.

You would never feel his arms around you again. You would never run her fingers through his hair or kiss him again. Never feel his heartbeat as you lay together after making love. Never hear his laugh, never see his smile or the way he would look at you.

Never.

He was gone.

All that was left was a hole where he should be, a gaping wound that would never heal—one that bored through to your soul.

You were so tired.

You were tired of pretending, and tired of being a burden to your friends. Not that many of them were left. You were tired of hurting, tired of the pain…tired of being alone.

You were tired of being without him.

In a surge of anger, you shoved the empty box away, hitting the nightstand. Unbalanced, the water glass you kept there teetered and fell, shattering on the hardwood floor. Slowly, you picked up the pieces, holding the largest in your hand.

You stared at it for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing anything this emotional, let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide attempt in this chapter, and dealing with the aftermath of the suicide attempt. There is a lot of angst and heavy emotions in this chapter, and it could be triggering to some. Please don't read if you think this will bother you--you can just skip this chapter, it will get better from here.

“Steve, are you listening to a thing I’m saying?” Nat peered at him over a steaming plate of ramen. She had dragged him to the local Chinese joint, smirking as he tried unsuccessfully to use chopsticks before asking for some American utensils. The food was great, but to be honest he didn’t have much of an appetite.

“I’m sorry, Nat. Today’s just been a tough day.”

Nat looked down at her plate. She always tried to brush off the sorrow, but in truth she grieved deeply for those that had been lost. Clint, her best friend, had lost his entire family in the Snap—he had vanished without a word, and it ate at her every day.

Especially today.

“I know.” She stared across the nearly empty restaurant. “I feel so useless. I used to have nothing…and then I go this. This job—this family. I was better because of it. And even though they’re gone…I’m still trying to be better.”

“I think we both need to get a life.”

“You first.”

He sniffed and pushed his food around his plate. A deep unease had settled into him, and he didn’t know where it was coming from.

“How’s Y/N doing?” Nat asked suddenly.

He froze. “Okay, I think. She’s been doing so well these last few months, but I worry…I worry that she sometimes shields her emotions from me.”

Nat shook her head. “That’s got to be hard…to feel everyone else’s emotions while you’re struggling with your own loss? Are you sure she was okay?”

Steve thought back to their encounter in the hall, and his unease grew. “I mean…she seemed okay. She said she was tired and had a headache…wanted to call it an early night.”

Nat stared down at her plate. “You know, I’m not really that hungry after all. Why don’t we take this to go and head back?”

“Sounds fine by me.”

Steve drove on the way back, his anxiety building with each mile. Something was wrong. He shouldn’t have left her alone--now that he thought about it, she _had_ seemed off in the hallway. How could he have just left her alone?

“Have you tried her cell?” Nat asked.

Steve handed her his phone. She dialed, her foot tapping impatiently as she waited.

“Just rang and went to voicemail.” She looked at him sharply.

He parked the car and they got out, heading up to the residence level of the facility.

“FRIDAY is Y/N still in her room?” He asked as the took the stairs two at a time.

“Yes, Captain Rogers, Miss Y/L/N has not left her room all evening.”

Unconsciously, his steps quickened as he reached her door, unaware that Nat was still behind him.

“Y/N?” He knocked on the door.

Silence.

“Y/N!” He banged on the door, louder. “Y/N—it’s me—open up!”

Nat looked at him with apprehension. “FRIDAY unlock the door.”

The door unlocked with an audible click, and Steve pushed it open hard, slamming it against its stops. He stepped in the room as Nat groped for the light switch.

“Y/N?”

The lights flickered on, and it took him a moment to process what he was seeing.

She was lying on the floor, horribly still and curled into the fetal position. A photo of Bucky was clutched in her hand—he recognized it as the one from her nightstand. Broken glass littered the floor, a large piece resting near her hand.

Then he saw the blood.

“No.” He breathed. “No!”

Steve ran and dropped to his knees beside her. There was so much blood. “No-no-no please! Y/N—don’t do this!” He fumbled blindly at her throat, feeling for a pulse. He couldn’t feel anything.

Distantly, he heard Nat shouting to FRIDAY in the background as he choked back a sob. He desperately pressed his ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat.

There.

It was faint and erratic, but it was there. Frantically, he tore two strips from the shirt lying on the floor, a shirt he vaguely recognized as Bucky’s. He tied the strips above the long slashes on her forearms, trying to stem the weakening flow of blood.

“She’s still alive!” He shouted to Nat as he gathered her in his arms.

“The med team is on its way, they said they’ll meet us there.”

Without another word, Steve turned and sprinted out of the room, clutching her lifeless body.

“Stay with me, Y/N…please…I can’t lose you,” he pleaded, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he ran down the hall. “Just stay with me.”

He skidded into the med-center on the ground level in a panic and she was pulled from his arms. He felt Nat grab his arm to steady him as she pulled him back against the wall, and they watched helplessly as the team tried to save her.

_All my fault. This is all my fault. I should have stayed with her—should have protected her._

Distantly, he was aware of the flurry of activity in front of him. Alarms began to sound, and his head jerked up as her heart stopped and the monitors flatlined.

_No._

“Begin compressions—charge to 200,” he heard someone direct grimly. Nat grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly, and they both jumped as Y/N’s body jerked on the table.

Nothing happened. The steady tone cut through to Steve's soul as he watched the medics press on her chest, trying to restart a broken heart that refused to beat.

“Again.”

_Please…oh God…don’t take her too._

The room began to spin, and Nat led him over to a chair as his knees gave out. He started to lower his head to his hands but stopped when he saw they were covered in blood—her blood.

_Sam._

_Bucky._

_Y/N._

One more name in a long list of names of the people he had failed to save.

“I’ve got a rhythm…pulse is steady…62…BP rising.”

He felt Nat grip his shoulder and he realized he could hear a steady beeping.

She was still alive.

***

Steve sat, deflated, in the chair that Nat had guided him into over two hours ago. His head buzzed with worry and self-hate, his thoughts disjointed.

He heard footsteps and raised his head slightly. Nat and another woman in scrubs was approaching him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Steve, this is Dr. Shaw. She’s got an update on Y/N,” Nat said, settling herself in the next chair.

Dr. Shaw was a stern, older woman, but her eyes were kind. “We’ve stabilized her and moved her to recovery. She’s lost a lot of blood…we’ve given her two transfusions, and she’s responding well. She’s heavily sedated right now, but she’s in the room at the end of the hall when you’re ready to see her. The wounds were deep and there’ll be some scarring, but no permanent physical damage.”

She took a breath, steeling herself. “Emotionally, I don’t know—these cases are always difficult. She will need to be watched, of course, and I can’t speak for any psychological or emotional trauma. She—” her voice broke, and she took a moment to steady herself. “There were no hesitation marks. If you would have found her even a few minutes later…” Shaw chewed her lip as if debating whether or not to continue. “I don’t usually tell people this, but I want you to be prepared. This was not a cry for help. She needs to be watched, and you have to be prepared for her to try again. I understand what she’s gone through, and as her friends you want to help her through this, but I would strongly recommend seeking professional help.”

Nat and Steve didn’t say a word, and Shaw took it as her cue to leave. “I’m sorry,” she said as she turned and exited the room.

The two of them sat together in silence for a long time. Finally, Steve leaned forward and hung his head, his forearms resting on his knees.

“This is all my fault. I failed her…I just left her there. I thought she was getting better, but I didn’t see…”

Nat ground her jaw in anger. “You know what, Steve, this isn’t about you right now.”

Steve’s head snapped up in surprise at her words.

Nat sighed. “This isn’t about either of us. It isn’t about who failed whom, or what we didn’t do. I’ve been eating myself up for the past year about Clint—about what I could’ve done. I felt like I failed him…like I should’ve tried harder. But in the end, it’s not about us. It’s about knowing when to ask for help. It’s about being there for our friends during their darkest hour, but not…not _expecting_ or _waiting_ to fix things by ourselves. It’s not a pass/fail.”

She took a deep breath and looked at him seriously. “You need to stop looking at her as a mission…as an extension of Bucky.” Steve raised his head in protest, but she pushed on. “I _know_ you do. You’re hurting, and you’ve lost people too…and you thought that maybe if you could fix her it would lessen the pain of losing Bucky. You need to see her as her own person and accept how damaged she is. Maybe…maybe this is about us helping each other, rather than trying to blindly fix everything,” she finished softly.

He looked up at the wall blankly and ground his teeth against the tears that threatened to fall. Nat was right. He had been so wrapped up in getting Y/N better…that in some convoluted way that would be bringing back a part of Bucky…that he had completely overlooked who she was as a person. He was so desperate to see any improvement that he had overlooked the now-obvious warning signs.

“I want to see her,” he said in a voice so quiet Nat wasn’t sure she had head it at all.

“O-okay…” she stammered as he stood up and started walking down the hallway, not waiting for her to follow.

 _She’s so pale_ —was his first thought entering her room. He took in the dark smudges under her eyes, her pale lips, the blueish tinge to her fingertips. Still intubated, and her chest rose and fell with a mechanical precision that unnerved him. She looked dead—although the machines around her told a different story.

Feeling a little lightheaded, he sat down heavily in the chair next to the bed.

 _That’s Y/N lying there, not Bucky,_ he told himself.

_Bucky is dead, and this is all you have left of him._

But Nat was right. Y/N was her own person, and he wasn’t being fair to her.

God—he didn’t really know anything about her. He didn’t know her favorite food, or what kind of music she liked. He didn’t know what her childhood had been like…what her pet peeves were. He didn’t know if she preferred dogs or cats, rainy or sunny days.

He knew that she was a kind and gentle person, and that Bucky had loved her with all his heart--but other than that, he didn’t really know anything at all.

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. Nat had come up behind him and was regarding the still figure in the bed with a look of hopeless pity.

“I’m going to go back up…Tony and Pepper will want to know what happened. Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay here for a while, I want to be here when she wakes up.” Steve heard her turn to leave.

“Hey, Nat?” He called softly, and she paused in the doorway. “Thank you. For…being here…and for what you said. I needed to hear that. I don’t think any of us are doing as well as we pretend to be…and you’re right. We need to start being there for each other and think about who is left, rather than what we lost.”

She smiled sadly. “It’s not going to be easy for either of us, but I’m here with you—with both of you. Anything you need, let me know.”

At his nod, she turned and left, and he settled himself deeper in the chair as he began his vigil.

***

Awareness came back gradually to you—the cool, crisp feel of the sheets, the sharp astringent smell, the soft beeping of the monitors. You were no longer floating. No, in fact your arms were lead weights at your sides and your head felt like it weighed twice what it should.

Sluggishly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the bright sun that drifted in through the window. Morning? Afternoon? You weren’t sure, and it didn’t really matter anyway.

You were in a hospital—that much was clear. The last thing you remembered was Bucky, how the pain and longing for him had filled every inch of you. You remembered the seductive glint of the glass shard as you held it in your hand, wanting the pain to stop.

You looked down at your wrists and saw they were swathed in white. Emotions flooded you—relief, shame, sorrow…disappointment? Yes. Disappointment.

You stared at the ceiling and let the numbness wash over you as you tried to push all thought and emotion away. You weren’t sure exactly how you felt right now...all you knew was that you were tired. 

“Y/N?” It was almost whispered--soft, and uncertain.

You closed your eyes against the sound of his voice—Steve’s voice. He was the last person you wanted to see right now. A wave of emotion flooded you, and you carefully schooled your features before turning to face him.

Steve was hunched forward in the chair. Dark circles stood out under his eyes, and his usually perfect hair was messy, as if he hadn’t slept in a week. You could feel his worry and pain, but no judgement or anger…not yet.

Oh no--that would come later, she thought bitterly.

“How are you feeling? I can get the nurse if you’re in any pain.”

“I'm fine.” It was barely a whisper.

He nodded and looked down at the floor. “You had a lot of people worried, Y/N. You scared the shit out of me,” he said, and you could hear the reproach in his voice.

Please don't do this...not now, you thought. You kept your mouth shut and stared blankly at the wall.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having problems? I could’ve helped…Nat could’ve helped. There’s a lot of people who still care about you, and you just…you almost died.”

You really didn’t want to talk about this right now. You hated his wounded tone, adding to the guilt and disappointment that you already felt. Disappointment that you had tried…and disappointment that you had failed.

“Y/N. Say something.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice hoarse from disuse. “I never meant to hurt you or cause problems.” You flinched at the sound of your own voice—even to you, the words sounded rehearsed and insincere. Why couldn't he understand you didn't want to talk about this right now?

Steve’s anger flared. “Hurt me? How do you think I would have felt if you’d have been successful? Do you know how much that would have destroyed me?” He demanded, jaw clenching. “How could you do that? Just throw everything away without a thought to anyone else?”

You could feel his anger and disappointment, and it threatened to swallow you whole. Your cheeks flushed as your own emotions bubbled over and you lost control.

“Don’t you dare judge me, Mr. ‘High and Mighty’ Steve Rogers!” You weakly pulled yourself up in the bed, nearly shouting as the monitors went crazy and alarms sounded. Steve’s eyes went wide and tried to gently restrain you so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, but you pushed him away angrily.

“You act like you haven’t done the exact same thing! The _Valkyrie_? You could’ve jumped out in time, but you were too devastated over losing your best friend to save yourself. So don’t you dare sit there and judge me.”

Steve looked like he had been slapped in the face.

“I was drowning—I was hurt and alone, and I did it,” your voice wavered. “I don’t even remember thinking about it…I just…didn’t want to be in a world without…without him in it.”

“Y/N…”

You didn’t respond. You turned your face away from him, eyes clenched shut against the tears that flowed down your face.

“Y/N, I’m sorry…”

“Please leave. I don’t want your judgment or your pity. I don’t want your help--just go.”

Steve sat there, frozen. This was going all wrong—what the hell was the matter with him? If Nat was here, she would have smacked him by now. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, gathering himself.

He had to fix this.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he felt his eyes burn. "I just...I'm so scared...I almost lost you, and Y/N...I feel like it's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you...I never should have left you like that."

“I’m not going to leave, not until you hear me out.” He paused, gauging your reaction. When you didn’t move or yell at him again, he took it as a cue to continue.

“You know, Nat actually yelled at me while we were waiting for you to come out of surgery. She said I needed to stop looking at you as a mission to complete…a pass/fail. She also said that I had to stop viewing you as an extension of Bucky, because you’re not—you’re your own person.” He sighed and leaned on his forearms as he stared hollowly at the floor.

“She’s right…and so are you. I’m still hurting, Y/N. I miss Bucky so much--I fought so hard to get him back, just for him to be taken again. I thought…” his voice hitched. “I thought that if I could save you…If I could bring you back and make you okay again, it would be like having a piece of him back. I wanted you to get better so badly that I completely ignored what was going on.

“I shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m sorry for that. I had no right to judge you—you’re right—I _have_ made similar choices in the past. I was just so scared of losing you, for my own selfish reasons, and it came out all wrong. I’m sorry.”

Steve raised his head and saw you had rolled back over and was looking at him, your expression unreadable. He swallowed thickly and looked you right in the eye before continuing.

“If you still want me to go, I’ll go…but I don’t want to. I want to be there for you, to be what you need me to be, to get you the help that you need. I don’t even know what okay means for any of us anymore, but I want to help you get there…no matter how long it takes.”

Your brow furrowed as he pulled something out of his back pocket. He stared at it for a moment before handing it to you. It was a letter—a bit worn, but still sealed.

Bucky’s handwriting was on the front, and it was addressed to you.

“I should have given this to you a long time ago, and I hope you can forgive me. I thought you were too fragile to handle it at first, and then later I didn’t want to disrupt the progress you were making. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

He stood. “Y/N, you're one of the strongest people I know, and I trust you. I’m going to give you a moment…go get some air…and I hope we can talk when I come back.”

You stared at his retreating back, turning the letter over in your hands thoughtfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that was a heavy chapter. There are a lot of emotions floating around right now, and yes Steve was a complete jerk, but he historically has a big problem dealing with emotions. Suicide is always a difficult subject for anyone to deal with, and this is definitely a low point in these two's emotional journey.  
> Please let me know what you think--this is by far the most emotional piece I've written so far, and I'd love to hear your thoughts


	4. Chapter 4

_April 27 th, 2018_

_Dear Y/N,_

_I don’t have a lot of time to write this, and maybe that’s good, because I don’t think I could write these words if I had time to think about them. We’re going up against something bigger than anything we’ve ever faced, and I’m ~~worried~~ scared. I have a really bad feeling about all of this. I hope you made it through okay—if one of us has to go, I hope was me. Sweetheart, I love you so much--this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do._

_~~I want to~~ _ _I hope you never get this letter. I hope I can just take it back from Steve when this is all over and burn it. But if I’m wrong, and you’re reading this, ~~it means I~~ I’m sorry. _

_God, this is hard. I thought today was going to be the day I would ask you to marry me, and instead I’m saying goodbye. I hope it’s not really goodbye—I hope I still get to ask you. I would take you away from all of this if I could, shield you from this, but I can’t. It always ends in a fight. Just know that I will protect you and love you as long as there is breath left in my body._

_I know you are hurting right now, and ~~I’m sorry I~~ I hate that I did that to you. I hate that I had to leave you. I’m selfish--I want you all to myself, but that being said, I don’t want you to be alone. I want you to be happy. I want you to move on. I want you to live your life—find someone to share it with. I know how much you love me, and I know how much this will hurt you. I know what I’m asking of you, and how hard this will be. But knowing you’re happy and living your life makes it a little easier to say goodbye._

_Please try to let me go. I don’t want the pain of my loss to destroy you._

_I asked Steve to watch over you, to help you through this if things go wrong. I know he can be ~~difficult~~ a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s the only man I trust to watch out for you. I trust him with my life, and if I can’t be there to protect you and watch over you, I trust him. I know that this is going to be harder on you than almost anyone else, because you’re an empath. Please don’t try to do this alone. Steve will be there for you—he can help you. Lean on him._

_Y/N, you are my heart, my moon and my stars. You are everything to me, and I am so sorry I had to leave you._

_I love you Y/N, always._

_Bucky_

You read the letter, two, three, four times, silent tears falling down your cheeks.

_Oh, Bucky._

You imagined him writing this, his large frame hunched over at the tiny desk in their cottage as the battle preparations whirled around them. How hard this must have been for him to write…how scared he must have been.

You hadn’t understood the gravity of the fight until the gunships appeared above Wakanda and the Chitahuri poured out. The grim look Bucky and Steve had exchanged as the creatures threw themselves against the barrier.

Now you did.

You closed your eyes wearily and laid back against the pillow. It felt cool and crisp beneath your head. Images of your final moments together flashed through your mind. The desperate pleading in his eyes as he realized what had happened, as his body turning to dust in your arms. As he struggled with what little breath remained to him, to tell you he loved you one last time.

He had wanted to marry you.

_I would have said yes._

But he was gone. He was dead. The life they could’ve had together was reduced to nothing more than dreams. The gaping wound in your heart was laid open, just as raw and bloody as it had been the day Bucky was taken from you.

He wanted you to be happy. To move on…to live your life.

To let him go.

But what did you want?

The past year had been a haze of pain and grief—of struggling out of the black pit you had lived in since the Snap. Of trying to convince Steve that everything was fine, if only to get him to back off.

Burying it.

Ignoring it.

Pretending.

You knew Steve was still hurting—you could feel it. It was his grief that had pulled you out of the pit, your empathetic nature wanting to comfort him. He had already brought you back once from the edge, and now he had done it again.

_I don’t want the pain of my loss to destroy you._

Except it nearly had.

Steve was waiting for your answer. He was doing the best he could, and you hadn’t really given him a chance. Maybe a small part of you had blamed him for being left behind, while Bucky was gone. You were drowning in pain and grief, and you hadn’t even tried to reach for the hand when it was offered to you.

Bucky had wanted you to try…you owed it to him to try.

If their roles had been reversed, you would have wanted him to be happy. To live a full life. You weren’t ready to let him go yet, but you didn’t want to die either. You just wanted the pain to stop.

You didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Y/N?”

Steve was standing in the doorway, his expression tentative but hopeful.

_I trust him. Please don’t try to do this alone—lean on him._

He stood motionless, his features carefully neutral, but his eyes gave him away. You could feel his emotions—so strong despite his efforts to mask them—fear, pain, concern, and strength. He wouldn’t leave you unless you made him go.

Wordlessly, you nodded, your eyes tearing up. Steve quickly closed the distance, sitting on the bed next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, and he stiffened for only a moment before pulling you close and holding you tightly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your face buried in his chest.

Steve gripped you tighter. His heart was pounding against your cheek and his shoulders began to shake, his breath coming in stuttering gasps as he cried soundlessly.

“I’m sorry too.”

You were shocked. You had never seen Steve cry—not even when Bucky died. He was always so careful about guarding his emotions, wanting to be their rock…the guy that would always hold it together. His reactions were always private and alone, if he reacted at all.

The wave of emotions you could feel coming from Steve was overwhelming. He was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he was tired. So tired. The hole in his heart was just as ragged as yours, and he had been trying to shoulder the burden alone until now.

You held each other until the storm had passed.

“Y/N…what do you want? What do you need me to do?”

He reached up and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, running his thumb lightly over your cheek. The gesture was so caring, so unexpectedly intimate, that you had to shut your eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to fall.

“I want…I want you to stay,” you began, your voice trembling. “ _I_ want to stay. Bucky…he wanted me to be happy, to move on…he didn’t want this loss to destroy me. He loved me, and he knew how hard this would be for me.”

You sighed deeply, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to move on, or even if I’m ready to be happy yet. But I am ready for the pain to stop. Steve, I’m just…I’m so tired of pretending.”

“Tell me what to do, Y/N…I’m not good with emotions. I don’t know how to deal with any of this, and I’m honestly a wreck right now.”

You laid back on the bed, taking one of his hands in yours. “I need to talk about him. About how I feel—all of this. I can’t just bury it or ignore it anymore.”

“We can find someone…Nat talked about therapy…”

You shook her head. “I don’t think I’d feel comfortable talking to a stranger about any of this, especially one who doesn’t understand empaths.” You shifted uncomfortably. “If…if it’s not too much, could I talk to you? You knew him best, and you understand what I’m going through. If Bucky trusted you enough to burden you with me, then I trust you too.”

“Y/N…you’re not a burden…you never have been,” he said softly, smoothing his thumb over your fingers. “It’s not going to be easy—for either of us—but I think that talking about it might help. I told Bucky I’d be there for him until the end of the line, and that’s what I promise you. No matter how hard it is, I’ll always be there for you.”

You nodded, smiling hesitantly up at him. His eyes were red, but he smiled back.

“There’s one more thing,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I can stay here anymore. It’s too hard—there are too many ghosts for me here, too many memories. I constantly feel everyone’s emotions, and it’s exhausting. I’m not asking you to leave—”

Steve cut you off with a shake of his head. “I think a change of scenery would do us both good. I…these pointless meetings…it’s been hard for me too. Why don’t we just take it slow, maybe get away for a few days? We can talk, see how it feels--unless you don’t want me to come,” he added quickly, gauging her reaction.

You felt like he was seeing you for the first time. As a person, not just the broken little thing he had to fix—an extension of Bucky.

“I’d like that,” you said. “I want you to come.”

“Then we’ll go together.” Steve leaned back, searching your face concernedly. “Are you tired, do you want me to go so you can get some rest?”

You snuggled in tighter to him, grateful for his warm, soothing presence. “Can you stay, just for a little bit?”

He stayed and held you until the nurse shoed him away disapprovingly, saying that you needed to rest. With a promise to come back to see you first thing in the morning, he allowed himself to be led away by the scowling nurse.

You settled back in the bed, clutching Bucky’s letter tightly in your fist.

_Okay, Bucky. I’m going to try…for you. I love you and miss you so much, sweetheart…and I’m going to try. I’m going to give him a chance._

Your eyes grew heavy and you settled into a mercifully dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**April - One Year Later**

**Berwick, Maine**

You sat in the porch swing, watching the sun come up over the lake. Peach and gold rays filtered through the heavy tree line, creating little sparkles that danced on the water. It was your favorite time of morning. Quiet and peaceful, full of the possibilities of the day.

You began to rock aimlessly back and forth in the swing and took a sip of your coffee. It was a rich, dark blend, taken black with just a hint of milk. You smiled to herself, remembering the first time you made coffee for Bucky—he also took his black, but with a startling amount of sugar.

Neither of you had been much of a morning person. You both preferred to stay up until all hours of the night, watching movies and talking, or doing…well…other things. It was strange how you had now come to be such a morning person—maybe it was because those few tranquil hours in the morning provided such a relief to your usually chaotic mind.

Here you were, again—the anniversary of the Snap.

One year later.

You took another sip of your coffee. You knew today was going to be hard on them both.

You could feel Steve’s increased consciousness as he began to wake, and you knew he would be coming downstairs to join you on the porch soon. He usually did, and of course today would be no exception.

You had a comfortable routine.

You had kept your promise to Bucky—you had reached out to that hand and allowed yourself to be pulled from the pit. You put her trust in Steve, just as Bucky had done.

You thought back to that first road trip, after you had been released from the hospital. Steve had finally talked you into seeing a therapist, and after a few sessions you had been cleared to take the trip. The sessions were surprisingly helpful—you hadn’t talked much about Bucky or your power as an empath, but instead had talked about how you dealt with your feelings and the feelings of others. Steve had even joined you at the therapist’s suggestion. Those sessions had been especially hard, but as a result you finally felt comfortable opening up to Steve.

You both had decided on a road trip to southern Maine—your family had vacationed there when you was younger, and Steve had never been. It was just as beautiful as you remembered.

You rented a small house on one of the many lakes. Steve hated hotels, and that was just fine with you. You both preferred to be outdoors, in the country, and the lake was the perfect peaceful setting.

Oh, there had been arguments, even a few fights—and one memorable flat tire in the pouring rain. Steve could be such a persnickety old woman at times, and you had a terrible habit of allowing your emotions to get the better of you. But it was good—so good to be away from everything, to be with a person who understood what you were going through.

You ended up staying for two weeks.

At the end of the stay you had danced around each other, avoiding the inevitable return to the Avengers Facility. Neither of you wanted to leave. Finally, you told him flat out that you were staying—the house you were renting was up for sale. You had a bit of money set aside and wanted to buy it and fix it up.

You just couldn’t go back.

You left it open-ended, and in the end, you were relieved when he asked if he could stay. Relief—because although you didn’t want to be alone anymore, you still wanted it to be his decision.

You sighed, taking another sip of your coffee and watching the sun peek through the trees. It was April, and still a bit chilly—you wished you had brought a blanket out with you.

Your mind wandered to Bucky, as it always did. He would have loved it here. So peaceful, like a colder version of Wakanda. The gaping hole in your chest had reduced itself to a dull ache, but you still felt it. Every single day.

You supposed you were happy—as happy as could be expected. Your life with Steve in the little house in Maine was constant if it was anything, and most days that was enough. Your relationship was strictly platonic, but you felt closer to him than anyone besides Bucky.

You had never really let anyone in before Bucky.

As an empath with the Avengers you had spent most of your time dealing with other’s emotions—healing, soothing, and sometimes controlling. You could take away someone’s pain, cause them to fall asleep, or recoil in terror all from a single touch. You could control the tension in a room, block or absorb others’ emotions, but you were barely capable of dealing with your own feelings.

You had gotten a little better at dealing with and sharing your feelings with the therapist’s help. Steve wasn’t the easiest person to open up to, as emotionally constipated as he was. But you had made a lot of progress, and you were surprised at how emotionally attached you were to him.

Your routine bordered on military precision. You got up together, ate together, worked on the house together, and enjoyed nature together. In the evenings you would watch a movie or read, and sometimes Steve would even bring out his sketchbook. Above all, you talked—about Bucky, about the Snap, about nothing at all.

It wasn’t a great life, but it was good enough.

***

Steve sighed and nestled his head deeper in his pillow, savoring the warmth of the sheets. To the normal ear the house was silent at this early hour, but his super-soldier hearing could hear the soft squeak of the porch rocker, and he could smell the aroma of coffee wafting up from the kitchen downstairs.

He stretched and pulled on the clothes he had neatly laid out for himself the night before. She made fun of him for it, but old habits die hard. Glancing across the hall, he saw that the door to her room was open, the bed neatly made. He walked downstairs to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee before grabbing the newspaper Y/N had laid out for him.

She knew him so well.

Before stepping out onto the porch, he grabbed a blanket from the couch. Y/N never remembered to bring one out with her, and she was always cold as a result—it was springtime in New England, after all.

The porch rocker made a soft creaking noise, soothing and constant against the still morning. She looked up and smiled as he handed her the blanket and sat next to her. He caught a glimpse of the book sitting in her lap.

“ _From the Earth to the Moon,”_ he observed appraisingly. “Heavy reading for a Sunday morning.”

She shrugged. “It was one of Bucky’s favorites, and I’m not as up on my classics as I’d like to be. I haven’t gotten much reading done this morning though…Just thinking.”

She nodded at his paper. “Sorry about the damp paper…damn thing was laying in that big puddle at the end of the driveway again.”

“It’ll read,” Steve chuckled. “I still think it’s a luxury just to have it delivered. Back in Brooklyn we used to have to walk down to the end of the block to get one from the paperboy…and that was _if_ we had the money for it.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to read his paper. What a difference from that broken woman a year ago. Curled like a cat with her legs tucked under her, she was looking out over the lake with a peaceful expression on her face, her eyes bright and clear. The morning sun glinted off her auburn hair, turning it a fiery red. He noticed how long it was getting, and he thought it looked pretty on her. She sipped her coffee, smiling to herself. He wondered what she was thinking about.

She looked happy.

“You can stop staring, Steve…I’m not going to spontaneously combust,” she said, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“Sorry…sorry, I just…how are you doing? I mean today…it’s—”

“I know what day it is,” she said, not unkindly. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning. About where I was a year ago, and where I am now…”

She rubbed at the scars on her wrists self-consciously, and Steve felt his heart lurch remembering that day. How scared he had been, finding her that way, covered in blood…the ramifications of what she had tried to do.

How close he had come to losing her.

He thought even further back—two years ago. That bloody battlefield. That final war against the mad Titan. The fear in Bucky’s voice and the desperation in his eyes as he faded away to nothing.

Just gone.

Steve felt his eyes start to burn, and he swallowed thickly. Y/N’s head snapped towards him sharply as she felt his emotions, and she drew an arm around him.

“Hey…shh…it’s all right.” She rocked him back and forth, his head buried against her neck.

This is how it had been for them--one would grieve, the other would comfort.

And the roles would reverse.

Steve had never felt comfortable opening up to anyone, even Bucky. Especially Bucky. Steve had been born weak. Weak in body, but not in spirit. He had fought against the frailties of his body his entire life, until Erskine had found him, and after…after he refused to show any weakness at all.

Bucky had always been a pillar of strength for Steve, and he looked up to him. He wanted to show the strength his body denied him. Yet time and time again, Bucky would see past the lie, find the chink in the paper armor Steve wore, and be there for his friend before he could destroy himself.

After the train—after Hydra, the roles seemed to have been reversed. It was Bucky hiding behind the lie, hiding his pain, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to burden his friend with his own feelings. He was Captain America—he was supposed to help others.

He was supposed to be strong.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sniffling as he pulled himself from her arms.

“Hey…this is not just about me, Steve…there are two of us here. I know you’re hurting too.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Look…I’ll probably have, oh, seven or eight breakdowns today, so you can make it up to me then, all right?”

Steve chuckled and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “Okay, okay…no apologizing, no holding anything back today—for either of us.”

“Deal.”

“You hungry?”

“Yessss…hungry and cold. Let’s go in.” Y/N stood, gathering the blanket and book in her arms.

Steve shook his head. “You know, if you actually wore enough clothes, or remembered to bring a blanket out, you wouldn’t freeze every morning. This isn’t Wakanda.”

“Yes, mother,” she said with a smirk as she scooted into the house.

***

“Steve, I’m going for my run!”

You were standing at the foot of the stairs, hollering up to him as you laced her sneakers. They had tried running together in the beginning, but you had quickly gotten tired of feeling inadequate next to Steve “on your left” Rogers. Now you just flat-out refused to run with him.

“Okay, see you in a bit…oh—Nat’s asking what we’re bringing to Tony’s tonight,” Steve called down from the office.

“I’m making some rolls later today, and I’m going to bring along some of those sugar cookies for Morgan.”

“Cookies? She’s not even two,” Steve said reproachfully.

“Calm down, Gramps…I’m giving them to Pepper, and besides—you know Tony is going to eat half of them himself.”

You heard him muttering to himself and you chuckled lightly. “Bye, Steven.”

You closed the door firmly behind you and jogged down the driveway, settling into a comfortable pace. Running had become your catharsis—a way to alleviate the stress and anxiety safely. You never listened to music, instead using the time and natural runner’s high to work through complex feelings.

Today, however, it didn’t seem to work. Bucky was everywhere. You could see him so clearly in your mind, it almost felt as if he were running alongside you, the way you used to in Wakanda. He always kept pace with you, never wanting to show off or make you feel inadequate.

You looked up at the trees, trying to focus on nature as you ran. It really was beautiful here, and you wished Bucky could have seen it. You hadn’t been able travel anywhere; that was one thing that you had always talked about doing, but you never got the chance.

You wondered what it was like for him, now. Was he happy, was he in a “better place?”

Was there anything at all?

You had never been religious, and your brush with death a year ago hadn’t left you very optimistic. You hoped it was like they said…that Bucky was happy somewhere, in a more peaceful, better place.

You hoped he wasn’t alone.

The thought of Bucky drifting through darkness, alone and scared started to eat at you. Even if he were, there wasn’t a thing you could do about it. You couldn’t save him from the Snap, and you couldn’t help him now.

Your breath hitched in your chest and your steps faltered. You was starting to spiral downward—you knew it—and you felt a panic attack beginning to set in. Looking around, you saw you were near the county park. It was deserted, of course. It seemed everything was deserted after the Snap.

You needed to sit down.

You sat on the ground with your back against a tree, head resting on your knees. Your heart was pounding, and you gripped your knees tightly as you struggled to control your breathing. Suddenly the edges of that great hole in your chest felt just as raw and jagged as they had two years ago, the pain flaring white-hot once again.

You wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole, if only to make everything go away.

***

Steve sat at the computer, typing away as he answered emails from Secretary Ross and Nat. It turned out he could do his job just as well from here as he could at the Avenger’s Facility, and that was just fine with him. Not that there was much for the Avengers to do now anyway—Thanos had been right about that after all.

He tried not to watch the clock, but he caught himself looking at it more than once. It wasn’t that he was over-protective—or maybe it was—but he knew today was going to be especially hard for Y/N and all bets were off. He wondered if they would even be able to make it to Tony’s get-together tonight.

Thirty minutes had passed. Y/N should be back any time now; she usually ran four miles, and it took her about thirty minutes.

He got a little distracted by an article Banner had sent to him on the return of the whale population, and when he looked back up at the clock, he was surprised to see another twenty minutes had passed.

Still no Y/N.

He got up and walked downstairs, looking down the driveway and out at the lake, just in case she had decided to stay outside for a bit before coming in. Nothing. Feeling a twinge of panic stir within him, he went back up to his room and started pulling on his workout clothes. If she came home now, he could always play it off that he had wanted to go for a run too. He knew it bothered her when he worried excessively over her, and he tried to hide it as much as possible.

Y/N had now been gone over an hour, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He swallowed hard against the bitter anxiety that lurched in his stomach and started off down the road at a slow jog.

He finally found her at the park, only about a mile down the road—she hadn’t gotten far at all. She was leaned against a tree, her head resting on her knees, and his super-soldier hearing could hear her hyperventilating all the way from the road.

Steve settled down on the grass next to her, calling her name softly so as not to startle her. He drew her into his arms, and she clutched at him as if she were downing. Which, he supposed, she was in a way.

“Shh…it’s okay Y/N…it’s all right.”

He held her tightly, his hands gently rubbing up and down her arms. Gradually, her breathing evened out and she began to shake uncontrollably as she came down from the panic attack.

“What’s one thing you can hear?” he said, launching into a grounding technique the therapist had taught them. When she didn’t respond, he shook her gently.

“C’mon honey…what’s one thing you can hear?”

“T-the birds,” she whispered.

“Good. Now what’s one thing you can smell?”

“Pine sap.” Her shaking had reduced to an intermittent tremble, and Steve loosened his grip slightly.

“One thing you can feel?”

Her hands gripped at his arm. “You. I feel you.”

“Good. What’s one thing you can see?”

Y/N leaned her head back, staring up at the tops of the tall trees and breathing deeply.

“The trees. I see the trees.”

Steve smoothed her hair back, looking into her eyes with concern. They were a little bloodshot from her episode, but they were calm and focused again. He leaned back against the tree and took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah…I just…my head just started down a path and I couldn’t pull myself out of it in time.” She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Steve…I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Hey—what was that we said this morning about not apologizing?”

“Okay, okay…not sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, trying not to press too hard.

“Yes…no…I know I need to, but can we just…can we just talk about it later? I just want to go home.”

Steve nodded and helped her up, and they walked together back down the road to their little house on the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slower chapter this time, it's been a year since the last chapter and we needed to get up-to-date on their living arrangement. Looks like they're both sorta happy and able to comfort one another,, and (gasp) Steve is able to express a feeling! It'll pick up a bit more in the next chapter.
> 
> Oh, and I just realized that Secretary Ross was Blipped with everyone else, so we're just gonna pretend that didn't happen. I don't want to create another character lol!
> 
> I welcome comments and kudos, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**April**

You spun in the mirror, eyeing your reflection critically. It had been so long since you had dressed up, and you felt nervous. Sure—Tony, Pepper, and Nat had been over to visit you and Steve since you’d moved to Maine, but always one at a time. You knew that was Steve’s doing; he didn’t want to overwhelm you with company.

You were grateful for that, it had given you time to learn to manage your emotions and block others’ more effectively when you were feeling vulnerable. If you were honest with yourself, you really were looking forward to seeing everyone tonight—you were just anxious.

You frowned at the reflection of the girl in the mirror. You had lost weight—that is, you never gained back all you had lost in the months after Bucky’s death. Your hair was longer now, but you liked it that way. It felt different, and right now, different was good. Fingering the fabric of your dress, you sighed and threw on a denim jacket. The dress was new—you couldn’t bring yourself to wear any of the dresses you had worn for Bucky. Too many memories.

“You look beautiful, stop fussing.”

You blushed self-consciously. Steve was leaned against your door frame, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a smirk on his face. He wore a simple flannel shirt and boots, and with the light stubble peppering his chin he couldn’t have looked less like the clean-cut Captain America.

He just looked like Steve.

You sniggered and poked his chest. “ _You_ look like a lumberjack. I should get you an ax to carry, or something.”

“You think?” he asked, running a hand over his chin. “I’m thinking of growing the beard out again.”

“You should…it looked good on you,” you said. You smiled at him as you tugged on your ankle boots, pretending not to notice the deep shade of red that crept into his cheeks.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, picking up the box of homemade rolls and cookies. You grabbed the keys from the kitchen counter and headed out to the truck, holding the door for him. You would drive to the gathering, and he would drive home. It was how you did everything—fifty-fifty, right down the middle.

You hopped behind the steering wheel as Steve gently set the box of baked goods on the bench seat next to him. The truck was a 1972 Chevy Silverado—a whale of a truck—but it came in handy for hauling supplies back to the cabin from town. And the price had been right; you bought it from the original owner of the cabin.

You fired up the truck and pulled up a playlist on your phone. One of the first things Steve had done with the Chevy was install a new radio for you; you loved music and were a shameless radio hog.

The first twangy notes of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Green River” rang out through the speakers, and Steve groaned loudly.

“Oh god, not the Creedence…Y/N, I beg you.”

You grinned mischievously and shifted the truck into gear, backing down the driveway. “To quote one of my favorite shows, ‘Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.’ You can have your revenge on the way back.”

You turned the truck around at the end of the driveway and headed out on Route 9 towards the Spaulding Turnpike. You drove in silence awhile, listening to the music. The song changed--“Golden Years” by David Bowie.

“Y/N, this song is terrible,” Steve complained. Then he said it, before he had a chance to think or stop himself. “I honestly don’t know how Bucky put up with you.”

You stiffened, and he realized what he had just said. The color drained from your face, your eyes staring resolutely ahead.

“Oh…Y/N, honey, I’m…I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…”

You swallowed thickly and flashed him a humorless smile. “It’s okay Steve, I know you didn’t mean anything by it. We _should_ be able to talk about him, and not just about the painful stuff.”

Turning down the radio, you let out a dry chuckle as you remember. “Actually, he hated it too. He liked the old big band tunes…reminded him of old times, he said. Although,” you added with a smirk that surprised you, “he _was_ partial to Creedence.”

Steve laughed. “Well, if Buck could put up with it, I guess I can too…although we both can admit, you have eclectic tastes in music.”

“I do…and I haven’t even unleashed the worst of my music collection on you.”

You turned the radio back up and flash him an impish grin. “How do you feel about disco?”

Steve groaned.

***

Steve watched Y/N as she navigated through traffic, singing loudly but surprisingly well to the tunes on the radio. The music was horrible—to his ears—but what captivated him most was the glow that seemed to be radiating from her.

She was happy.

Steve grinned even as he felt his eyes start to burn. He hadn’t felt this light in months, and he wondered if this was her doing. She shined brighter than the sun, drawing him in and consuming him. He could see what had drawn Bucky to her.

He stared out the window, watching the interstate flash by. They were getting close now. He was looking forward to seeing the gang, especially little Morgan. The girl was as cute as a button, and he doted on her like a favorite uncle. Steve and Tony had butted heads, especially over Bucky’s past and Steve’s unwavering defense of his friend.

The Snap had changed all that. Steve wasn’t sure if it had been Bucky’s death or Tony’s guilt over being the only Avenger to survive the Snap with family intact, but the wall between them had started to crumble. Morgan had taken care of the rest. The first time he had held her, her little pink nose peeking at him over her swaddle, something had shifted deep within him. This was what he wanted; after all the fighting, all the pain and death, he just wanted peace. He wanted a family.

He didn’t mean in the literal sense, of course. He had Y/N to think about, and he truthfully enjoyed his time with her and couldn’t see giving that up—not unless she wanted to. He enjoyed spending time with his friends, and for the first time he began to think of them as something more…as family.

The only family he had for the longest time was Bucky. His ma had died young, his dad even younger. Bucky had taken care of him, had been his rock—even when he had nothing, he still had Bucky.

He still missed him, and hardly a day went by where he didn’t think of Bucky. He missed his snarky comebacks, the boyish gleam in his eye when he was about to get up to mischief. He even missed Bucky’s thoughtful, moody silences, and being able to comfort his friend when the demons came calling.

Steve had fought so long and so hard to bring him back, and in the end he had lost him anyway. He was so tired of fighting—now was the time to treasure the few friends he had left, the friends he now called family. He was no longer looking for the next fight, the next cause to defend.

He was done.

He heard the first bouncy notes of Artie Shaw’s “Begin the Beguine,” and looked over at Y/N in surprise. The smile was sweet on her lips and she winked at him.

“I suppose I’ve tortured you enough.”

Steve grinned and closed his eyes, leaning back against the headrest as the music filled him. He must have drifted off because the crunch of gravel startled him.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. We’re here,” Y/N said, parking next to Rhodey’s car.

Steve had barely exited the truck before he heard a high-pitched squeal. “Unca Steev!”

Morgan ran unsteadily down the drive at him and launched herself into his arms. From the porch, Pepper watched with a fond smirk on her face. Steve scooped Morgan up and followed Y/N up to the house.

“She’s so excited, she’s been talking about you non-stop,” Pepper said with a chuckle as she held the door open for them. “I’m so glad you both could make it.”

Pepper pulled Y/N into a tight hug and the two women moved into the kitchen, chatting about the dinner plans and how big Morgan had gotten. Steve watched them for a moment before Morgan once again demanded his attention, wanting to show him her room.

“Why don’t you give Uncle Steve a minute to catch his breath honey,” Tony began, drawing up next to Steve. “Ooh, why don’t you go get the picture you made for him?”

“Picture? She’s not even two?” Steve asked as the girl scampered off in search of the drawing.

Tony shrugged. “Just scribbles, mostly, but it looks remarkably like your face. Better looking, though--everyone thought so,” he said with a smirk. He gestured to the kitchen, drink in hand, where Y/N and Pepper were busy preparing dinner.

“Y/N looks good, Steve. She looks…happy.”

“She does…we still have good days and bad days, but we’re managing,” he agreed. “I honestly wasn’t sure we’d make it this far, but it’s been working out well.”

“She looks like a different person—you do too. Not like before, just different,” Tony said. “You two are good for each other.”

Steve stared at Tony, surprised at his uncharacteristic observation. Before he could reply, Morgan returned with her drawing. Steve scooped her up in his arms and the three made their way out to the back porch.

***

Steve drove on the way home, and you struggled to remain awake in the passenger seat. The party had been fun, but it had still been a draining experience for you. The slow big band music coming from the truck radio wasn’t helping either, lulling you closer and closer to sleep.

You smiled to yourself as you remembered Steve playing with Morgan, laughing out loud when she finally released him from her playhouse, both of them dressed as princesses, tiara and all. He was so good with her. It was great seeing Nat again; you two had been really close, and it had been far too long. You would have to call her again soon. She had mentioned heading into the city with Pepper for a girls’ shopping trip, and it sounded like fun.

You honestly didn’t remember the last time you had such a great time, and you realized with a start that you hadn’t thought of Bucky all afternoon…or all evening.

Were you forgetting him? Is this what it was like—moving on? You could still see his face clearly in your mind, his gorgeous blue eyes sparkling back at you, but how long before you couldn’t remember anymore? How long until you had to look at a photograph to remember?

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. You didn’t want to forget him, but you didn’t want to be sad anymore either. You looked over at Steve, the corner of his mouth turned up as he hummed along with the song. Closing your eyes, you opened yourself and allowed the warmth of his emotions to fill you, damping down the sorrow you felt.

“Hey—you okay?”

You opened your eyes to find Steve looking at you, his face concerned. He reached out and took your hand, and you interlaced your fingers. His hands were large and warm, and they helped ease your troubled mind further.

“I’m a little sad, but I’m okay, Steve. I had a really good time tonight. I guess I was just feeling a little guilty, that’s all.”

“Guilty?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, sometimes when I catch myself feeling really happy it makes me sad…because Bucky’s not here, and it’s like I’m forgetting him, or something.”

Steve was silent a moment, and you wondered if he ever felt the same thing.

“I get it,” he said, “and I think it’s a perfectly normal reaction. I don’t think any of us is ever going to forget him, though, especially you. I thought I had lost him for seventy years, and I never forgot him.”

“I miss him,” you said quietly.

“I miss him too.”

He gave your hand a squeeze and turned the truck up the gravel drive to the cabin, parking next to the garage. You both sit in the truck, listening to the tick of the engine cooling.

“It’s okay to feel happy, Y/N. It’s what keeps us going…living for these moments. I get that now. For the longest time I never really allowed myself to be happy—I just leapt from one fight to the next. I was alive, but I wasn’t really living. I’ve done a lot of good in my life, but I…I feel like in a way I haven’t really lived at all.”

Steve turned to you, holding your hand tightly. “Being happy doesn’t mean you’re forgetting about Bucky. It’s not an insult to his memory—he _wanted_ you to be happy. He wanted that more than anything. And if he could’ve seen you today, at that party, he would have smiled. You were beautiful tonight Y/N, vibrant and shining, and I know he would have been so proud of you.”

Your eyes swam with unshed tears, but you didn’t let them fall. Now wasn’t the time for crying. Instead you scooted next to Steve on the bench seat and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you close, and you laid your head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

Steve rubbed your back and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. We’ve made it this far…we’ll make it the rest of the way too.”

“I know,” you said. “Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you, for just…for everything.”

Steve didn’t say anything back. He just smiled and pressed another kiss to your temple, this one gentler and lingering. Helping you down out of the truck, you both walked hand-in-hand up the path, and the screen door banged shut behind you.


	7. Chapter 7

**June**

_Sunshine, blue skies, please go away_

_My girl has found another and gone away_

_With her went my future, my life is filled with gloom_

_So day after day I stay locked up in my room_

_I know to you, it might sound strange_

_But I wish it would rain_

Y/N’s voice harmonized sweetly along with the music, drifting over to where Steve sat with his sketchbook in hand. It was the first really warm day of summer, and a gentle breeze wafted through the screens, mixing with the heavenly aroma coming from the kitchen.

She was cooking lasagna for dinner, one of Steve’s favorites. It had been a wonderful day, a simple, lazy day for them both. They had taken the weekend off from work; they both agreed they had overdone it last week on the roof repairs.

He loved watching her in the kitchen, she always seemed happy there. It was one of her outlets, and she was an excellent cook—which was a good thing, because Steve could put away an obscene amount of food thanks to his enhanced metabolism. Bucky had been the same way.

He had tried to share the culinary load with her when they had first arrived at the cabin, but after several undercooked meals, burnt pans, and one minor kitchen fire, they agreed it was best Y/N did all the cooking. Steve believed her exact words had been, ‘Set one foot in here again, and I’ll fillet you with a kitchen knife.’

She sang quietly along with _The Temptations,_ completely engrossed in her work. Drawers banged, pots clanged, and water bubbled, drowning out the lyrics—he knew them anyway, though. Y/N had gotten him hooked on Motown, and this was one of his favorites. An upbeat and happy melody with incredibly sad lyrics, it somehow reminded him of her.

_Day in day out my tear-stained face_

_Pressed against the window pane_

_My eyes search the skies desperately for rain_

Steve picked up his pencil, hesitating. She looked so happy, lost in her own world…he wanted to draw her, just like this. He had thought about sketching her before but drawing her like this, when she had her defenses lowered, seemed somehow more intimate. Steve worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before making the first hesitant lines on the paper.

_'Cause rain drops will hide my tear drops_

_And no one will ever know that I'm crying, crying when I go outside_

_To the world outside my tears I refuse to explain_

_oh I wish it would rain_

Steve’s brow creased in concentration as he sketched. A curve here…the line of her dress. A smudge there…the slight flush to her cheeks as she leaned over the stove. Slowly, she began to take form on the paper, and he smiled inwardly.

“Are you drawing Peggy?”

Her voice startled him, and he nearly dropped the sketchbook. There was no way she could see what he had been drawing, yet she didn’t sound upset. She was looking over at him, smiling slightly as she chopped fresh basil. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your emotions, they’re just so strong right now it’s hard not to.” She looked over the kitchen island at him and smiled. “A lot of love and happiness…I like seeing you like that.”

Steve was stunned. “Um, yeah…Peggy. It’s, uh, just relaxing to sit here and draw, you know?”

_I need the rain to disguise the tears in my eyes_

_oh let it rain_

Y/N nodded and started loading the dishwasher. He was sure she could sense his discomfort, but he didn’t know how to hide his emotions around her…he never had to before.

Wait—what exactly was he trying to hide?

“I’m sorry, Steve, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable talking about her. It’s just been a while since I sensed those emotions from you, and it reminded me of how I felt about Bucky. I know I’m not the only person that’s lost someone I loved, and I want you to know that I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

“Th-thanks, Y/N…yeah, maybe it would be good for me to talk about her sometime.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief when she dropped it and turned to put the lasagna in the oven. Love and Happiness? Is that what he had been feeling towards her? Because he certainly hadn’t been thinking about Peggy. He was so confused.

“It’s going to take that about thirty minutes to bake, I think I’m gonna go sit down by the lake for a bit,” she said, folding her apron.

Steve snapped the sketchbook shut and stood.

“I’ll join you, just let me go throw this in my room.”

*

Steve crept silently down the stairs, deftly avoiding the squeaky steps so as not to wake Y/N. It was late, and he had been tossing and turning all night. He glanced at the clock as he sat down on the couch—12:30 am. He was going to be tired in the morning, but he hadn’t a chance of falling asleep if he didn’t quiet his mind first.

Peggy. Peggy and Bucky. His conversation earlier with Y/N played over and over in his head, wracking him with guilt and confusion. When he had been drawing her, he _had_ been happy, filled with a warmth and lightness he hadn’t felt in years. In truth, he always felt that way around her. Steve hadn’t thought anything of it; he just thought it was the platonic kind of love two close friends shared, like the relationship he had with Bucky.

Is that really how he felt about her, though? Platonically?

Y/N had thought he was drawing—and thinking—about Peggy. She wasn’t a mind-reader, Steve knew that’s not how empaths worked…she just read and felt emotions, always taken out of context. It was up to her to look for cues and provide the context, and she had immediately associated his emotions with Peggy. Steve felt like he had been hit in the chest with a lead weight.

Was he falling for her?

Steve pictured her, standing in the kitchen and singing, a gentle smile on her face. She was pretty—beautiful even—and he couldn’t deny her attractiveness. The way her dress hugged her supple form…her soft pink lips, parting slightly when she laughed…the sparkle in her eyes as she teased him, the color so deep he wanted to fall in.

But Y/N was so much more than just a pretty face. She was the kindest, most caring person he had ever met, all soft edges and warm curves. Yet she could also be tenaciously stubborn, quick with a witty comeback and more than willing to stand toe-to-toe against anyone who tried to hurt those she cared about.

Steve felt a heat rise deep in his core. It was full of love and lust, want and need. He took a shuddering breath, a different kind of heat rising to his face—he was ashamed.

Y/N was Bucky’s girl. It didn’t matter if he was dead, Bucky had been his best friend and she was off limits. He had asked Steve to watch out for her and take care of her, not pine after her like some fifteen-year-old schoolboy. He was supposed to be her friend and nothing more; she belonged to Bucky, and that was that.

Peggy. Steve felt a surge of guilt hit him like a blow to the stomach. He hadn’t truly thought of her in months. He had been so focused on Y/N, on helping her and trying to overcome his own pain over everyone lost in the Snap, that he hadn’t even thought about Peggy.

He still loved her, even though she was gone. He had missed his chance to be with her, a thought that would still eat him up if he let it. Finding her again had been both a blessing and a curse; it was wonderful to be with her again, but to witness her slow decline had been heartbreaking. But as horrible as it was, he had gotten closure where Y/N hadn’t—Bucky had been taken from her before she could say goodbye. There hadn’t even been a body to bury.

And what about Y/N? It had barely been a year since she had tried to end her life. She trusted him. She considered him a good friend—she had invited him to stay with her, for christssake! And here he was, lying to her and gawking at her when she wasn’t looking. He was supposed to be her friend.

An immense wave of guilt crashed over him. It was wrong of him to use Peggy to lie to Y/N. It was wrong to betray Bucky’s trust. And it was wrong to pine after Y/N. This had to stop, this infatuation—because that’s what it surely was. He had to bury these feelings deep down, and not allow them to fester into something else…something more dangerous. Steve’s breath hitched, and he felt his eyes burn with shame.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

He hastily wiped at his face. “I’m okay, Y/N…just couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Steve. Your emotions were practically shouting at me from down here.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she said as she settled on the couch next to him. “I got up to use the bathroom and saw your door was wide open, but you weren’t in there. What’s going on?”

Steve’s heart hammered in his chest. What should he say? The truth, probably, but a shaded version of it. He couldn’t bear to admit everything to her.

“I was just thinking about Bucky, and…and Peggy. Feeling guilty, um, just about everything,” he finished lamely. It was a partial truth, and his eyes burned with the deception. “I’m sorry, I don’t really want to talk about it now, it’s too…too—”

Steve lost it. The tears spilled over, surprising him in their intensity. Y/N pulled him into her arms and held him tightly as his shoulders shook, the weight of all his emotions crashing down on him. She rubbed soothing circles down his back and he instinctively buried his head against her shoulder. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away.

“Shh…it’s okay, let it out. I think you’ve been keeping a lot of things bottled up, and trust me, it’s not healthy. We don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready, just know that I’m here for you.”

Steve sniffed. He needed to get ahold of himself, right now. He couldn’t just sit here bleeding all over her just because he couldn’t handle the guilt of his own feelings.

“Th-thanks, Y/N, you’re a good friend.” And that’s _all_ she would be. Steve could handle that, if it meant keeping her as a friend and being true to Peggy and Bucky’s memories. It would hurt at first, but he could do it. He would be the best friend she ever had.

“Hey, I know it’s late, but I’m wide awake now, do you want to put on a movie? It can be one of the old ones you like.”

Steve smiled. “I’d like that.”

They only ended up lasting about thirty minutes, Steve dozing off, his head on the arm of the sofa while Y/N lay snuggled against him, fast asleep. He slowly sat up, grimacing at the crick in his neck from laying in that awkward position.

Y/N still hadn’t moved, and Steve didn’t have the heart to wake her, not when she was sleeping so peacefully. Slowly, turned off the tv and gathered her in his arms, carrying her up the stairs to her room. He carefully placed her in her bed and covered her with blankets.

Before he turned to leave, he tenderly kissed her forehead, lingering perhaps a moment longer than he meant to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was entirely in Steve's perspective, don't worry, the Reader will get her own chapter later :)
> 
> If you're interested, the song they're listening to is "I wish it would rain" by The Temptations https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-es4Q8AJaU


	8. Chapter 8

**August**

It was hot. Ridiculously hot. Shifting on the ladder, you wiped your brow and tried to ignore the icky feel of the sweat trickling down your back. Wakanda had been hot, but you had gotten used to it after months of living in the sweltering African heat. The cool New England climate had made you soft. As miserable as you felt though, high on the ladder painting the side of the house, you knew Steve had to feel even worse.

You looked down at him and watched as he placed a two-by-four under the porch and lifted, puffing with exertion. The front porch had been damaged in the last storm and one corner was sagging, so he was replacing the support beams today.

“Tell me again why we decided to do this on the hottest day of the year?” you called down to him.

Steve chuckled as he picked up the tape measure. He looked up at you, squinting against the sun.

“I’m always coming up with the dumb ideas, you’re supposed to be the smart one and stop me. This is your fault.”

Steve yelped and dodged the drops of paint that you flung at him from your brush. He was red in the face and breathing heavily, and even from your perch on the ladder you could see his shirt was drenched in sweat. You dropped your brush in the paint can and carefully descended the ladder.

“This is ridiculous, Steve--it’s like, a hundred degrees out. Let’s take a break, we can finish this up tomorrow. I’m pretty sure that even super soldiers can get heat stroke.”

Steve eyed the front porch and mopped his face with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I’ve got it shored up pretty well, it’ll hold until tomorrow.”

He thanked you as you handed him a glass of water. You helped him put away the tools and paint, then walked back up to the house, eyeing the lake longingly.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of sweating. I’m going for a swim--you coming?”

The screen door had already closed behind you, and you were already re-thinking your dinner plans—the last thing you wanted to do was stand over a hot stove--so you didn’t see the look on Steve’s face or notice his conflicting emotions of lust and embarrassment.

Minutes later, you were dressed in your swimsuit, floating lazily in the cool water. It felt so good, you were surprised steam wasn’t coming off you. You pulled yourself up onto the pier and sat on the edge, kicking your legs aimlessly as the summer breeze cooled your wet skin.

You heard the screen door bang shut and looked up towards the house. Steve was coming down, towel and sunscreen in his hand. You snorted—you had been blessed with the ability to tan, but the fair-haired super soldier burnt like a lobster every time.

“How’s the water?” he called down.

You noticed his eyes graze briefly up and down your body as a deep blush colored his cheeks, and you rolled your eyes. Steve was such a prude. Your swimsuit was a modest one-piece, black and not cut too low in the front or too high at the thigh—you didn’t want to offend his sensitive pre-war ideals. Bucky had just about had a heart attack the first time he saw you in a two-piece swimsuit…something he got used to real fast though, you remembered with a smile.

“It’s nice…I don’t know why we don’t do this every day,” you said, kicking at the water and watching the ripples grow.

Steve walked out onto the pier. He tried to hand you the sunscreen, but you shook your head.

“I’m good,” you said, smirking at him as he applied his own. “But here…you always miss your back, and then I have to listen to you complain for days.”

Ignoring his protests, you began rubbing the sunscreen on his broad back. His skin was warm and firm beneath your touch, and the afternoon light brought out the hint of auburn in his hair. He was keeping it longer now, and he had grown out his beard like he had before Wakanda. He seemed so happy. Steve had been so good to you; you cared deeply about him, and you were glad he was happy here. The dark circles were gone from his eyes, and he had the hint of a smile on his face--he looked good.

A low heat began to build deep within your core as you ran your hands over his sculpted muscles. It had been two and a half years since you had touched another man, and you weren’t oblivious to the way Steve looked, standing before you now.

He was so different from Bucky. Bucky had been shorter—an odd statement, since he had been well over six feet tall—and though they both looked as if they were shaped from marble, he had been bulkier with a more well-developed core. Steve had broader shoulders, but his waist was narrow and his build leaner. The heat began to build as you massaged the sunscreen in, and you felt your breathing quicken.

_Oh my god, what is wrong with me?_

It had begun innocently enough; you didn’t want him to get sunburned, and you also didn’t want to listen to his whining when he invariably did. But what was this…what was happening now? You let your hands drop and took a step back, a deep flush of embarrassment flooding your face. You could sense Steve’s discomfort, and oddly, a flash of desire.

Your shame deepened. You had made Steve feel uncomfortable. He had been thinking more and more about Peggy lately; you had sensed his emotions, and even though he said he was fine, you knew he was thinking about her. How awkward he must feel, having another woman rub her hands all over him.

And what about you? How could you think those kinds of thoughts about _Steve_ , Bucky’s best friend? Bucky was the love of your life, and your heart ached for him still. What kind of person were you, to lust after Steve like that?

You cared deeply about Steve, that was certain. He was a kind man with a good heart; he had helped you through the darkest period of your life, and you would be forever grateful to him. Steve had dropped everything to help you—he had completely changed his life—all for you, and to be honest, you loved having him in your life. But you were friends—that was all. Steve loved Peggy, just as you loved Bucky; both of them were gone, but that didn’t change your feelings towards them.

There would never be another man for you—you didn’t want anyone else.

“Um, okay…you’re all set.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

If Steve had noticed anything was wrong he didn’t show it, because the next second he jumped off the pier in a surprisingly awkward cannonball that completely drenched you.

“Steve! What the hell!”

“Oh, stop your squawking, you were already wet anyway.”

His laughter drove your lingering guilt over Bucky from your mind, and you jumped in. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as the two of you playing in the water like a couple of children.

***

The rain pounding against the roof woke Steve. He was surprised to see he had slept in—it was almost nine in the morning. He rolled over, staring at the dark and cloudy sky outside his window.

Something seemed off.

The house was silent, save for the sound of the storm outside. There wasn’t the usual smell of coffee rising from the kitchen, and he couldn’t hear Y/N bustling around downstairs, because she surely had to be awake at this late hour.

Anxiety began to creep in, and he sat up, tugging on a pair of sweatpants. He leaned out of his doorway and looked over at her door. It was closed.

“Y/N?” he said, rapping on the door. There wasn’t an answer, and a horrible sense of déjà vu filled him. His heart was in his throat as he turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Y/N, I’m coming in.”

She was laying on the bed, curled on her side with the covers cocooned around her as she lay unmoving. Steve choked back a sob of fear as he frantically rushed to the bed, knelt next to her, and rolled her over.

She was crying. Silent tears streamed down her face as she stared out the window, her hands limply clutching the blankets around her. Steve let out a shuddering breath as his heart finally started to beat again. For a moment, he had thought the worst—he had felt like he had been catapulted back to that horrible day when he had almost lost her.

“Y/N, please, talk to me…what’s wrong?”

Steve sat on the bed next to her, smoothing her hair back and brushing gently at her tears. She closed her eyes, flinching away from him as she curled tighter against herself.

“I’m…I can’t…it’s just a bad day.”

Her words were barely audible, but Steve knew what she meant. The guilt and pain and loss were crushing her, and on days like this she could barely function…she couldn’t even get out of bed. It had happened a few times before, but it had been a while.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Steve laid down on the bed next to her and drew his arms around her. She stiffened for a moment, but to his surprise she rolled over and nestled tightly against him, her head on his chest. Tears began to soak through his shirt, and he held her tighter as the sobs threatened to tear her apart.

“Shh…it’s okay…it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Gradually, she began to quiet, and she lay limply in his arms, exhausted and trembling. Steve gently tilted her chin up so he could look in her eyes. They were a little red and swollen from crying, but they weren’t glazed or distant.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

She was silent for a moment and he thought she wasn’t going to answer, then he heard her voice, barely above a whisper.

“I feel like I’m forgetting him. Like he’s just…fading away, all over again.”

Steve thought back to their conversation in the truck, the night of Tony’s party. These past few months Y/N had been the happiest he had seen her in years—certainly not since Bucky’s death. He knew how she felt, and the guilt of being happy was eating at her.

She was moving on.

“Y/N, he’s not fading away. Bucky will always be with you; the ones we love never truly leave us.” Steve gently wiped at the tears drying on her cheeks. “It’s okay to move on with your life—we all do it. But _you_ do it at your own pace, when _you’re_ ready to, and you hold on to whatever happiness you can find. It’s what Bucky wanted—he told you that. It’s okay.”

Y/N just nodded against his chest and let out a shaky breath.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“Not much…I’m really tired.”

Steve pressed a chaste kiss to her hair. “You should try to get some rest, then. I can bring you up some breakfast if you’re hungry.”

He started to get up, but she held his wrist.

“Steve, can you…can you just stay with me? Just for a little bit? I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

His heart broke hearing the sadness and self-loathing in her voice, and he settled himself back down next to her, wrapping an arm around her once again as she curled up against his chest.

“I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to, Y/N”

_I’ll stay forever if you ask me to._

“You don’t have anything to do?”

“Nothing important. Besides,” he said, gesturing to the rain streaking down the window, “today’s a good day for staying in bed.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she said, snuggling close.

Steve closed his eyes, breathing in her scent and letting the warmth of her body next to his envelop him. He was slipping, he knew, letting those feelings get the better of him. He knew it was wrong, but right now, in this moment, he didn’t care. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if she could hear it. He wondered if she knew how much he loved her.

They lay together in silence for a while, and she finally drifted off to sleep. Steve continued to stay with her though, imagining holding her under very different circumstances.

***

One week later, they were back at Tony’s house, this time for Morgan’s birthday party. As per usual, no expense had been spared to celebrate the little girl turning two, but it still paled in comparison to the parties the billionaire used to throw. Parties had seemed to be quieter, more subdued affairs after the Snap. It just didn’t seem right somehow.

This one was different, though. The music was quieter, the guests not as indulgent, but there was laughter and dancing, smiles and animated conversations. There were quite a few people still at the party—it was late, and Pepper had taken Morgan up to bed hours ago, the birthday girl barely able to keep her eyes open.

Nat settled back against a picnic table with her drink, surveying the dancers in front of her. Chinese lanterns had been hung in the trees, bathing the dance floor in soft light. Everyone was having a good time, switching partners back and forth, but there was one couple she was particularly interested in.

Steve and Y/N.

An upbeat song was playing, and she watched as Steve twirled Y/N, eliciting a giggle from the girl. A slight smile played across Nat’s face as she observed the pair. Everyone had been switching partners all night, but those two had seemed to be drawn back together like a magnet and ended up dancing most of the night together anyway.

Y/N looked radiant in a summery wrap dress, her skin glowing and long hair cascading down her back. Steve was smiling at her, and he looked ten years younger as he twirled her and drew her close again. They looked good together.

“Whew! It’s been a while since I danced this much, I must be getting old.”

Rhodey’s voice interrupted Nat’s thoughts as he and Tony sat down next to her on the picnic table.

“Rhodey, you were born old,” Tony smirked. He looked over at Nat, and then out to the dance floor. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

Nat nodded over to where Steve and Y/N were still dancing. The song had changed, and it was a slow Motown song-- “Nothing Can Change This Love” by Sam Cooke. Y/N had her arms around Steve’s neck, and they were smiling and chatting, completely oblivious to the eyes on them. As they watched, Steve lifted his hand from her waist and tenderly caressed her back.

“They look good,” Tony said. “They look happy.”

“More than just happy, I think,” Nat observed.

“What’re you talking about? Those two? They’re just friends.” Tony looked over Steve and Y/N in confusion.

“Tony, sometimes you are so clueless,” Rhodey smirked. “You don’t see the way they light up around each other? They way they look at each other when the other one’s not looking?”

Nat gestured broadly at the crowd. “Or this party…when’s the last time we all had this much fun? Or we felt this happy?”

Tony shrugged. “I thought it was just my above average party planning skills coming back to me.”

“No, idiot. It’s Y/N—it’s all her. She’s projecting her emotions onto everyone here, and she doesn’t even know it. We all feel it because _she_ feels it,” Nat said.

The three watched the slowly dancing couple. Nat was happy for them. Bucky had been a good man, and Y/N was one of the sweetest, kindest people she had ever met. She didn’t know two people who fit together better or were as deserving of each other as those two had been.

Bucky’s death had nearly torn Y/N apart, and for the longest time she had been worried Y/N wouldn’t be able to recover from it. Nat was glad Steve could be there for her, and she supposed that whatever was happening between them now was inevitable. If the two of them could find some happiness in the midst of all the sorrow and loss, then she supported it. Not that either of them would do anything about it—no one had asked them about it, but the two still maintained they were just friends.

Nat stood and sighed and stood, gesturing towards the pair with her empty glass.

“It’s obvious they’re in love with each other, anyone can see it. They’re the only ones who can’t.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Smut (wet dream, masturbation), Angst
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**October**

_Y/N’s lips were soft and supple against his as his fingers tangled in her hair. He felt her tongue flick across his bottom lip as he parted them, and he moaned into her mouth at the feel of her tongue against his. He felt her hands run down his back, leaving trails of fire that made him tremble as he felt her grip his waist. Steve pushed up against her, and she gasped when she felt his arousal press against her hip. She gently kissed along his jawline before she hovered over his pulse point, sucking at the tender spot as his heart hammered away in his chest._

_Trailing his lips down the valley of her breasts, he nipped at the sensitive skin, growing harder as he heard her sigh of pleasure. His fingers drew down her taught stomach to her slender hips, and he felt her hands do the same._

_He felt her fingers run along his length, and stars exploded behind his eyes. Panting for breath, he gripped her hips as she stroked him, teasing her fingers over his tip and making him pant as the friction began to build. Slowly, she pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips, one hand gripping him firmly while the other pressed flat to his chest against his pounding heart. Her lips met his in a tender and loving kiss, and he slowly pushed insider her as—_

Steve jerked awake.

For a moment he just lay there, panting as he came back to himself. It was still dark, and the house was still and silent. The room was—wait—this wasn’t his room.

He was laying in his side, his arm wrapped around Y/N and holding her tightly to him. Her back was pressed against his chest, and he was covered in sweat. He shifted, realizing that his crotch was also pressed up against the curve of her rear, and he rolled quickly away from her.

He was hard and throbbing, with a telltale wetness staining the boxers he wore underneath his sweatpants. Steve glanced over at her in horror as shame colored his face. Thankfully, she was still sleeping deeply, lying unmoving under the sheets and breathing slowly.

Now he remembered—Y/N had another nightmare last night, a bad one. They had been occurring more frequently, and he had begun cuddling with her afterwards to comfort her. He usually only laid there until she fell asleep, but he must have dozed off.

Steve glanced over at her again, making absolutely sure she was still asleep, and he eased himself up out of the bed and closed her bedroom door behind him. He tiptoed into the bathroom and turned the shower on, stripped out of his soiled clothes, and stepped into the bath.

The hot water against his feverish skin felt good, and he pressed his arm against the tiled wall, closing his eyes and leaning his head against his forearm. He allowed himself to drift as fragments of his dream came back to him, and he palmed himself in frustration.

Slowly, he worked himself off as the dream-memory of her slender body beneath him and her sweet lips against his played through his mind, and he clenched his jaw to silence himself. The heat in his stomach began to flame out of control, and his eyes screwed shut as he released, biting back a moan of pleasure as he released.

Steve stood there, panting, her name still on his lips as he washed away the evidence of his shame. Slowly, he sank to the floor of the bath on trembling legs as the warm water continued to beat down on him.

This was getting out of control. _He_ was out of control.

Steve sat there with his head in his hands until the water began to cool. He didn’t know what he should do. This was so wrong, yet he wanted it so badly, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself anymore.

Maybe he should just leave.

No, he couldn’t do that. Y/N still needed him. The nightmares and depressive periods were happening more frequently, and he was really worried about her. She seemed happy, but the guilt and panic over forgetting Bucky and moving on seemed to be eating at her more. No, he couldn’t leave her.

He could tell her how he felt, but how would that end? He knew loving her was wrong, and the thought of how she would look at him, of her horrified rejection, stopped him cold. She would tell him to leave, and he didn’t think he could bear that.

Steve didn’t know what to do. He was Captain America, always the one with all the answers, but for the first time in his life, he felt utterly lost.

The water was beginning to get cold now, and it was uncomfortable. Steve got out and toweled himself off, tiptoeing to his room to dress for the day. It was maybe a little early still, but not so early as to arouse suspicion.

He hated this—hiding his feelings and pretending. He had always shielded his emotions from others, but since Y/N had taught him to express and share them he couldn’t stand not doing so anymore.

Walking into the kitchen, he made himself some coffee and laid out the newspaper in front of him. It was yesterday’s paper, but he didn’t care—he didn’t feel like walking down the driveway to get the new one. It wasn’t like he was actually reading it anyway.

Steve sat there for a while, sipping at his coffee and not reading the newspaper, until he heard soft footsteps down the stairs.

“Morning, Steve…you’re up early.”

He shrugged. “Just restless, I guess.”

Y/N sat poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to him. “Um, not to pry or anything, but I can feel something’s bothering you. You seem conflicted, there’s just…a lot of different emotions coming from you right now. Do you want to talk about it?”

She was sitting so close to him, her hand resting lightly on his. Her hair was sleep-tousled, the soft locks framing her face as she looked at him in concern. He could smell her shampoo, and her skin glowed in the soft morning light. She looked beautiful.

He should tell her. It was the right thing to do, no matter how hard it was. His heart beat painfully in his chest and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Y/N, I…” he faltered, swallowing at the lump that rose in his throat. “I…”

“Is it Peggy?” she asked gently.

“Wh-what?”

“Peggy. I know you’ve been thinking about her more. I can feel your love for her, the pain and guilt. I’ve been thinking about her too, both her and Bucky, and what you said to me about moving on.”

Steve’s head spun and he opened his mouth, but he couldn’t make the words come out.

“I’ve come to the realization that we’re both moving on,” she said, rubbing her fingers across his knuckles. “For me, the path was obvious, and I resisted it. But for you, I don’t think you’ve ever had the time to slow down and mourn her properly. Your life up until this point has been chaos, one mission, one crisis right after another. Then there was Bucky to look after, as well as carrying the weight of the Avengers on your shoulders. And then me. I can’t believe the burdens you’re carried by yourself—you’re such an incredibly strong person.”

She reached a hand up to his arm and rubbed it soothingly, and he felt a jolt of electricity down his spine. “This is the first time you’ve had a chance to slow down and sort out your feelings, and I think this chaos and confusion is only natural. I’ve certainly been feeling it myself. You’re such a good friend, and you’ve helped me so much already. Let me help you now.”

At a loss for words, he simply nodded. Y/N leaned in close and for one wild moment he thought she was going to kiss him, but instead of his lips she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek—one that left his entire face tingling.

Whatever courage he had managed to scrape together now deserted him as he watched her move around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. Y/N still didn’t know. He knew now that there was no denying his feelings, even if he was too coward to admit them. His guilt had receded somewhat; he would never act on them unless he knew how she felt about him. After everything she had been through, he couldn’t be the one to put those thoughts in her head.

Steve was tired of torturing himself over this. He loved her, and he couldn’t continue lying to himself. He needed to talk to someone about his feelings for Y/N; he felt like he was going to explode.

Nat—maybe he could talk to Nat. He was supposed to meet with her at the Compound next month, and he could speak with her then. They had moved their monthly meetings to once a quarter now, and even that seemed like it was too often. Until then, he would allow himself to pine after her from afar and worry about the ramifications after he talked with Nat, and _if_ Y/N ever returned his feelings.

Steve reached up and touched the spot where her lips had met his cheek, as if to seal it there forever.

***

October in New England was your favorite time of year. It was what you remembered the most about when you used to come up to Maine with your family, and it’s what brought you back there. There was a crisp chill to the air, one that carried the autumnal scents of oak and maple, the trees’ bark a sinister black against the blazing foliage.

And today was the perfect fall day. You were in the kitchen, baking cinnamon apple muffins and a pumpkin pie, while a beef pot roast simmered away in the crock pot. It was another of Steve’s favorites, and you wanted to cheer him up—he had been having a rough time lately. The whole house smelled heavenly as you happily bustled around the kitchen. Yes, it was the perfect fall day.

Until Steve fell off the roof.

You heard the thud overhead first, followed by a yelp and a skittering down the length of the roof. Out of the kitchen window a dark shape flashed by, but you were already rushing outside, the screen door slamming behind you.

“Steve!”

He had landed on his side, and he was facing away from you, unmoving. You screamed his name again, your heart in your throat as you rushed to his side. Before you had even made it halfway, deep, raucous laughter made you skid to a stop. Closing the distance, you stood over him with your hands on your hips as he rolled onto his back, still laughing.

“Did you just fall off the roof…and you’re _laughing_ about it? What part of that is so funny?”

Steve looked up at you sheepishly. “Uh…yeah. First the slipping on a loose shingle part, then the getting the extension cord tangled around my feet part, followed by the short trip to the ground in a spectacularly ungraceful fashion part.”

“I thought super soldiers were supposed to land on their feet, kind of like cats,” you said dryly as you knelt down by him. “Are you okay, Steve?”

“I’ll live,” he said, sitting up slowly. He grimaced and pressed a hand to his side. “Maybe some bruised ribs…”

“And one hell of a gash—you’re bleeding,” you said, noticing the large cut on his forearm. It looked long and nasty, although not particularly deep. You took off your apron and wrapped it around his forearm.

“Come into the house, I’ll get the first aid kit.”

You helped him up off the ground, watching him carefully, but he seemed pretty steady once he was standing.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here,” Steve said as you walked him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table.

You smiled and shook your head at him. “You can have one when they come out of the oven, but let’s get you cleaned up first.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do that,” he said as you laid the kit out on the table and sat next to him.

“I want to.” You started cleaning the gash on his forearm. “What were you doing up there, anyway?”

“Squirrels were getting in through the roof vents, they were starting to nest in the attic. I was just re-sealing the vents up, and I must have slipped on a loose shingle.”

You shook your head. “You scared the shit out of me. When you fell, I thought…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Steve, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Your lips twitched in a smile and you bent back over his arm, securing the cut with butterfly bandages and wrapping it securely with gauze. Steve watched you as you worked, your hands light and gentle against his skin. Sensing his emotions, you felt he was comforted and happy, as well as a low undercurrent of love. It was not a hot and passionate love, but a deep and unwavering love that strangely matched what you were feeling.

You felt your stomach clench and your face flush as you finished wrapping his arm. Steve cleared his throat, and you wondered for a moment if he had noticed your discomfort.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m just going to go up and get some clean clothes on.”

Steve headed up the stairs, but you continued to sit at the table. You were so confused. When Steve had fallen from the roof, you had been so scared. Super soldier or not, he could have really been hurt. In that moment, you realized how much he truly meant to you—how much you cared for him. It was way beyond the platonic love of friendship.

You had been suspecting these feelings for a while, ever since August. Almost every day, you had found some new evidence of your growing feelings for him, as your guilt over betraying Bucky’s memory only grew. Your depressive episodes and panic attacks had increased, and you know Steve had noticed. He didn’t seem to know why though, and you certainly weren’t about to tell him.

You were falling in love with Steve.

You were falling in love with Bucky’s best friend. It was so wrong, on so many levels. Steve was just beginning to mourn Peggy properly and work through his feelings, and you had just accepted that you were moving on after Bucky’s death and allow yourself to be happy once again. If you really thought about it, you weren’t surprised by these newly realized feelings for Steve; he was a kind man, and very attractive, and living in close proximity to him for almost three years was bound to stir some feelings for him.

It surprised you, but although you felt a small twinge of guilt, it wasn’t as strong as you thought it would be. You didn’t feel guilty about having these feelings for another man; Bucky had wanted you to be happy, to move on with your life and find someone to share it with. No, you felt a little guilty because it was _Steve_ , and because you honestly didn’t know how Bucky would have felt about you falling in love with his best friend.

Not that any of it mattered anyway. Steve clearly didn’t return your feelings, and you weren’t about to push your own onto him. Wrong or right, it didn’t matter if he didn’t feel the same way. You were only human, after all, and there was no harm in caring deeply about Steve as long as you didn’t act on it.

These were still new feelings for you, and you needed some time to think. Maybe you should talk about them with someone else—you could always call up Nat when Steve was out at the lumber yard picking up supplies. She was a good friend and had given you some good advice when you had first started dating Bucky. If anyone would understand your confusion and guilt, it was her.

Dipping your hand into your shirt, you pulled out Bucky’s dog tags. You never took them off, not even to shower. Leaning against the counter, you closed your eyes and held them tightly in your hand, missing him more than ever and wishing you could see the path through this.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: 18+, Heavy Smut, Angst
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**November**

“Steve, can you even see the road?”

You nervously gripped the handhold on your door as you felt the rear tires catch an icy patch and the back end skid a little. The windshield of the old truck is a blur of white as the snow pelted it.

“I can see it, super soldier vision, remember?”

Steve was looking intently out the windshield and driving at a cautious speed, his hands lightly gripping the wheel and his body relaxed. He seemed completely at ease, and you were glad he was driving instead of you.

The late November snowstorm had hit suddenly, unusual but not unheard of in these parts. You were both on your way home from the Avengers Compound. The purpose of the visit had been the quarterly Avengers meeting, but you and Steve had stayed longer to celebrate Thanksgiving with Nat and Rhodey.

It had been the best Thanksgiving in recent memory. Nat and Steve had been banned from the kitchen in the interest of safety; instead, you and Rhodey prepared the entire meal. You had never spent much time with Rhodey before, but he was an excellent cook and you shared a love of Motown, so you and he bonded over Sam Cooke while Nat and Steve scuttled off to a corner to talk about god-knows what.

Thanksgiving had been fun, but Steve had been on edge the entire time. You could feel his anxiety, and while you tried not to eavesdrop on his feelings while he was talking to Nat, you couldn’t help it. They were practically screaming at you.

Love and lust, anxiety and guilt, sorrow and unbridled happiness. It was all so confusing. You had thought he was letting thoughts of Peggy and Bucky get to him, but now you weren’t sure. There was a slow tension building between the two of you, and Steve had been the most closed off he had been in months. You were worried about him, but you were perfectly fine if he wanted to talk to Nat instead of you.

You had a few things you wanted to talk to Nat about, yourself.

Before you knew it, it was time to leave, and you unfortunately didn’t get the chance to talk with her privately. She smiled sympathetically at you and told you to call her for a girl’s weekend in the city as soon as you were free, and you could catch up then. You had checked the weather forecast before you left; it had been clear, not a snowflake in sight.

That was New England for you.

“We’re okay, Y/N. We’ll take it nice and slow,” Steve reassured you.

Your grip on the door handle eased; you trusted him completely. “Ugh…I just hope the power’s not knocked out when we get home…this snow’s really heavy.”

“You and me both,” Steve admitted. “I’m not looking forward to dragging the generator out from the back of the garage—I haven’t had a chance to get it ready yet, I thought we had more time.”

You nodded. “We should check on Tom too, make sure he’s good for the night.”

Tom Anderson was your elderly neighbor next door. He had lost his wife in the Snap, and he and Steve had recently bonded over their mutual old-fashionedness. He didn’t have a cell phone, so you tried to check up on him during power outages.

Steve pulled into the driveway, putting the truck into four-wheel drive to get through the deep snow. You hopped out of the truck and cursed loudly; the drift was already a foot deep, and you felt an icy wetness seep into your ankle boots. The forecast had been clear for the entire weekend, and neither of you were dressed for the weather.

You hugged your jacket to you and tried to keep your dress from flapping in the wind as you slogged towards the house; your exposed legs were already completely numb.

“Here—Y/N, wait.”

Steve scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the front door. You blushed several shades of red, being held like that by him, but you didn’t complain. He fumbled with the key, opened the front door, and set you down.

“My hero,” you giggled, noticing the flush in his cheeks as well.

Steve flipped the light switch and cursed under his breath when nothing happened. He kicked off his shoes and tugged on his heavy winter boots and coat.

“I’ll be back,” he sighed. “I’m going to get the gen going, and I’ll go over and check on Tom.”

“Be careful,” you said, handing him a flashlight. “I’ll get a fire going, it’s freezing in here.”

You watched out the window as Steve trudged over to the garage, his flashlight flicking back and forth in the storm. Bustling around the house, you lit candles and soon had a roaring fire in the fireplace; the generator would power the well pump, fridge, and a few outlets, but nothing else.

The flickering glow and soft warmth of the candles and fireplace gave the cabin such a cozy feel, with the storm raging outside. It was still a bit chilly inside, so you hugged your jacket to you and stood by the fireplace.

The front door banged open and Steve walked in, stomping his boots on the porch to loosen the snow that was caked to them.

“Well, the gen’s good to go, we’ve got enough fuel for a couple days. Tom’s all set, he got his gen going by himself, and I gave him my cell phone for the night in case he needs us, he knows to call yours.” He brushed the snow out of his hair and his beard, and started unbuttoning his jacket.

“Steve, you’re soaked. Come over here and warm up.”

“I’m okay, I’m built like a furnace,” he said, kicking off his boots and walking over to where you stood by the fireplace. “You, on the other hand, are not. You’re shivering, Y/N.”

You looked up at him as he helped you out of your jacket. His cheeks were flushed from the cold outside, his hair tousled, and his eyes were dark in the dim light. He glanced down at you; your soaked dress clung to you like a second skin, not leaving much to the imagination. A low heat began to build in your stomach as you looked at him, and you tentatively reached out to sense his feelings.

Desire. A deep and burning hunger nearly matching yours in intensity. The heat within you flared as his emotions enhanced your own, and by the look on his face you knew he could feel it too.

For a moment you both stood very still, the only sound in the house the crack of the logs in the fireplace and the sound of your breathing. Steve took a step towards you. The blue of his eyes was blown nearly black with want, and he looked down at your lips before meeting your gaze again.

Raising his hand, he tenderly brushed your snow-dampened hair back from your face, and you noticed he was trembling. He swallowed thickly, letting out a shuddering breath as his fingers gently caressed your cheekbone.

Steve started to lean towards you, eyes flicking back to your lips, but he stopped as if to give you a chance to back out. Your heart was pounding, and you felt dizzy. You couldn’t think…you didn’t want to think.

You just wanted him.

You closed the distance, your lips barely grazing his as you rested you hand lightly against his chest. Beneath your palm you could feel his heartbeat, it’s rapid tempo nearly as fast as your own. The kiss was excruciatingly slow, his soft lips gently meeting yours and holding you there until you had to break away, gasping for breath.

Steve leaned against you, his forehead pressed to yours and his chest heaving. His hands tightened at your hips, and the heat in your core flared. He looked up at you through long, dark lashes, and you bit your lip in anticipation.

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside you both.

Your lips met again, only this time it was not slow and sweet. It was deeply passionate, a carnal hunger that drove the built-up tension and emotions over the edge. Your teeth clicked together and you felt his tongue slide across your bottom lip, requesting and gaining immediate access. You moaned into his mouth as his hands slid up your back, leaving trails of fire along your feverish skin.

Steve’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on your dress as you tugged at his shirt, your lips parting from his only long enough to lift it over his head. Both of you were panting, grasping and clawing at each other in a frenzy as you struggled to remove your soaked clothing.

Your dress fell to the floor and Steve moaned, his large hands running down your sides to grip your thighs. He lifted and hugged you to him, carrying you upstairs without breaking the kiss.

It was colder upstairs, but Steve’s body was fire itself against you. You gripped his hair and kissed along his jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot below his ear as you both entered his bedroom. Steve whimpered and placed you gently on the bed; he crawled on top of you and you gasped as you felt his arousal press against your hip.

“Tell me to stop, Y/N,” Steve whispered. “Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you want this. I can’t…God, I want you so badly, but I have to know.”

“I want this…I-I want _you_.” You panted in his ear as he grazed his lips down your throat.

Steve let out a small sob and his hands slid under your bra, easing the fabric from your body. Your panties and his boxers quickly joined it on the floor, and finally his body pressed against yours, the skin-to-skin contact driving you mad with lust. You could feel his heart beating frantically against your chest as he nipped at your collarbone, and he shivered as you ran your hands over his sculpted back.

His lips trailed down to your breasts and you cried out as he took the sensitive bud in his mouth, teasing it lightly. Steve groaned at your wetness and you felt him slide along your core, seeking permission once again.

“Please, Steve…I need you,” you whimpered, feeling him grow even harder against you.

His tip teased your entrance and you pushed against him, gripping his shoulders tightly. You gasped as he entered you, and you opened yourself both mind and body to him as his emotions flooded you. Steve was everywhere, inside you and around you--it was strange and new and wonderful, and you breathed in his scent as his heartbeat filled your ears, his emotions intertwining with yours and running over.

Slowly, you began to move together, gradually building in tempo as the fire within you burned out of control. His fingers tangled in your hair and he tilted your head back, exposing your neck and kissing the length of your throat as he pushed against you.

Steve’s breath was ragged and uneven as he thrust deeper, and stars exploded behind your eyes as he hit your spot, again and again. You tensed as the wave crashed over you and you climaxed, coming undone with a breathy cry. Your face was tingling and you gasped for breath, unable to come down from your high as he continued to move with you.

His thrusts became erratic, his breathing stuttered in his chest, and he cried out as he released inside you, slamming into you with hard, powerful thrusts. Steve moaned your name and held you close as you both came down together, your sweat-slick bodies locked in a trembling embrace. You felt his mouth brush against yours and your lips parted, kissing him passionately and deeply.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. He was so beautiful, looking softly at you through half-lidded eyes, and his lips curled into a smile as he carded his fingers through your hair. You could feel your eyes start to grow heavy as the adrenaline and pleasure receded, leaving you with a feeling of warmth and safety as you both drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

***

Your eyes opened slowly and quickly closed again, the room over bright from the sun gleaming off the snow outside. Then they snapped open as you realized where you were.

You were in Steve’s room…in his bed.

_Oh my God, what have I done?_

Steve’s arms were around you and your head rested against his chest, your naked bodies still intertwined. You tensed as you remembered what had happened the night before, and you lay still for a moment, struggling to process. Steve must have felt you tense, because his eyes fluttered open and he smiled at you, running a hand lightly down your arm. He saw your face, and his brow knit in concern.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You started to open your mouth to speak, but right then there was a loud knock at the front door.

“Steve?” Tom’s voice, muffled through the door, drifted up to where you both lay. Steve groaned and rolled out of bed, pulling on his jeans and a shirt.

“Hold on a second Tom, I’ll be right down,” he hollered. He looked over at you, still concerned.

“I’m okay Steve, go see what he needs.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” You were far from fine, but Steve bought the lie. He smiled at you and walked downstairs.

“Hey Tom, why didn’t you use the cellphone…yeah, I know…okay, let’s go see if we can get it started. Y/N, I’ll be right back, Tom’s snowblower won’t start,” he yelled up to you.

“Okay.”

You lay still for a moment, unable to move as images from the previous night came flooding back. You had sex with Steve. Hot, passionate sex.

And you liked it.

Guilt flooded you and you pressed a hand to your mouth, your eyes wide.

_Okay, Y/N, think this through…you don’t need to freak out._

You had sex with Steve. He had asked you, and you said yes. You liked it. Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You were only human, after all, and it was just sex. You both had needs, and that’s what last night had been about, right? It wasn’t as if the two of you were in love, or anything. It wasn’t disrespectful of Bucky’s memory, even if it was with Steve.

It was just pent-up, lustful tension. It was just sex.

Did you want it again?

Yes, you admitted, you did. Last night had been amazing, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t physically attracted to Steve. You cared deeply for him, but you knew his heart belonged to Peggy, just as yours belonged to Bucky. Besides, the two of you could never—would never—fall in love. He was Bucky’s best friend, and you were Bucky’s girl. It couldn’t happen.

Because last night was just sex…it wasn’t love, for either of you, and you supposed you could be okay with that.

You climbed out of bed, filled with a nervous energy. Maybe a shower would help you calm down; you were still sweaty from last night, and your hair was a mess.

You took a leisurely shower, but it did little to calm you. Glancing at your phone, you saw a missed text message from Steve—he must have gotten his phone back from Tom.

_Steve: Hey, I’m going to be a while, we need some parts from town to get it up and running._

You texted back, telling him there was no rush. The power was back on, and the house was toasty and warm as you walked downstairs and made yourself a cup of coffee. You drank it slowly, looking around and wincing at the state you had left the living room last night.

Clothes were strewn everywhere, and the floor was still damp from discarded snow. A side table had been knocked askew, and Steve’s drawing supplies and sketchbooks were laying on the floor. You sighed and set down your coffee cup as you picked up the art supplies.

You looked down at the sketchbooks in your hand, frowning. You had seen Steve draw a million times, but you had never seen the sketchbook on the bottom. It was bound in leather, its pages of a finer quality than the others. Curious, you opened it and looked inside.

It was you. On every page, at every possible angle. In color and black and white, sketches and completed drawings, your likeness had been captured with stunning realism. These had been drawn in secret, with a tender loving hand that you knew all too well. They were a love letter, created for the woman that had captured his heart.

Steve was in love with you.

You dropped the sketchbook on the table and took a step back, your heart hammering. Steve had lied; he hadn’t been thinking about Peggy, it had been you, this whole time.

You stood, frozen in place as your mind spun, trying to process this new information. Steve’s lie felt like a sort of betrayal, both to you and to the memories of your lost loved ones. You were so confused, your heart ached for Bucky, yet a small part of your heart lit up seeing the evidence of Steve’s feelings for you.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Fumbling in your pocket, you pulled out your phone and hit speed dial. Nat picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Y/N, you guys make it home okay last night? I saw the storm on the news—”

“I slept with Steve,” you blurted.

Nat paused a moment. “Wow, um okay, are you—”

“He’s in love with me,” you said, cutting her off. “He’s in love with me and I don’t know how I feel about that or the sex I mean it was great and at first I thought that I was okay with that but now I’m in the living room and there is a whole sketchbook full of nothing but pictures of me and oh Nat what do I do?”

You were babbling, walking around aimlessly.

“Y/N, calm down.”

“I can’t do this…I can’t stay here right now, I need to think. I have to get out of here.”

“Okay, okay, don’t panic. Where’s Steve?”

“He’s over at the neighbor’s fixing their snowblower.”

“Okay, Y/N, I think it’s time for that girl time we talked about. How soon can you get to the Amtrak station in Kittery? Are the roads safe?”

“They’re clear, they plowed last night. I can call a cab and catch the 9:30 train. Are you at the Compound?”

“Yes. Listen Y/N, I don’t think you should just leave without telling Steve, you’ll rip his heart out if you do that.”

“I can’t talk to him right now Nat, not when I don’t even know how I feel. His emotions, they’re so strong, they’re suffocating me…I-I can’t think.”

Nat sighed. “All right, will you at least leave him a note, then? You know if you just disappear he’s going to freak out.”

You thought about it. No, you couldn’t just leave without letting Steve know; you cared about him and didn’t want to hurt him. You told Nat you’d leave him a note and made plans to meet her at the Amtrak station near the Compound. Hanging up, you called the local cab company, who said they’d be at the house in fifteen minutes.

You tugged your suitcase out from under your bed, packing quickly and not allowing yourself to think about anything but getting out the door. Your fifteen minutes were almost up, and you were just walking downstairs with your suitcase when you heard the front door open and shut.

“Y/N? I’m back, sorry it took so lo—”

Steve was standing in the kitchen, looking down at the open sketchbook on the table, frozen in the act of removing his coat. He looked up at you and then down to the suitcase in your hand, his eyes widening in realization.

“Y/N, I can explain…”

You shook your head. “I can’t Steve, not right now, and not with you. I need some space, to…to process all of this and to think about—”

“Please, can we just talk about this?”

“I can’t,” you began, avoiding his eyes and doing your best to block his emotions. You started towards the door, but he stepped in front of you.

“What about last night? Didn’t that mean anything to you? You said you wanted…” he trailed off, and you looked up at him. He was breathing hard, his eyes red-rimmed and vulnerable. “Y/N—"

“I know what I said, and I thought I knew what last night was, but I was wrong,” you blurted, cutting him off. Your gaze dropped to the open sketchbook. “Last night was…I thought it was about just…but now…”

Your eyes skittered helplessly around the room as you tried to explain, but your thoughts were muddled and your head was spinning from the effort of blocking his strong emotions. You felt yourself start to hyperventilate. Steve reached out to you in concern but dropped his hand when you flinched out of the way.

Gravel crunched in the driveway, and you heard the sharp beep of a car horn. Your taxi was here. Steve glanced out the window and back at you, his eyes pleading and desperate.

“Please Y/N, don’t go. We can talk about this…” He took a step towards you, raising a hand as if to restrain you, but he stopped when you took a step closer to the door.

“Steve, I just can’t. You…I can’t think straight when I’m around you, I can’t block the…I’m suffocating. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” Your voice caught, and you blinked back the tears that had started to form.

The taxi honked again. “I have to go Steve. I’ll be with Nat, I’ll…I’ll be safe.”

Steve’s face fell. He swallowed thickly and lowered his head, nodding. You turned and pushed the door open, letting it bang shut behind you. You didn’t look back as you got into the cab, and you didn’t see Steve close his eyes and grip the doorframe, swaying slightly as the cab pulled out of the driveway and out of his life.


	11. Chapter 11

**December**

_“Tell me to stop, Y/N…Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you want this. I can’t…God, I want you so badly, but I have to know.”_

_“I want this…I-I want you…”_

Steve lay on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes to block out the cheery sunshine he didn’t want to see. He was still in his pajamas --it was the middle of the day, but all he had been able to accomplish so far was physically getting out of bed. The cup of coffee and bowl of cereal sat untouched on the coffee table next to him.

The house was a mess. Y/N would have scolded him if she could see it. Hell, he would have scolded himself if he could muster up enough energy to do so. It seemed lately he had been fluctuating between two moods; a depressive lethargy that found him barely able to function, and a manic drive that had him starting a dozen different projects around the house, none of them even close to being finished.

A circular saw sat on the kitchen table, sawdust sprinkling the clothes strewn on the floor. The old mantle from the fieldstone fireplace leaned haphazardly up against the masonry, the new one sitting unfinished in the garage. Pizza boxes and takeout containers littered the kitchen countertops. They were empty at least--he wasn’t a total slob.

Steve wished he could get drunk. Not that it would help anything, but maybe it would take the pain away and he could forget, just for a little while.

Three weeks. Y/N had been gone for three weeks.

He had tried calling and texting her at first, but she hadn’t answered. Nat had called back instead, reassuring him that she was okay and she didn’t hate him.

_“She’s pretty messed up right now. She’s so conflicted she doesn’t know which end is up or what she’s feeling. We’re working through it, but you have to give her some time, Steve.”_

Steve pressed a hand to his chest, trying to ease the ache he felt in his heart. It was different than the ache he had felt after Bucky and Peggy died. This one was for Y/N, and it seemed rawer and angrier because she was still here.

She was still here, and he had lost her.

She had been his, for a few brief and wonderful hours, but he had screwed up—so badly, he didn’t think he could ever fix it. Steve had replayed those moments over and over in his head. The air electric with delicious tension the moment before she kissed him, the feel of her lips moving against his and her body moving beneath him, the sound of his name moaned from her sweet lips as she came undone.

Steve had worked himself off several times to the memory of her, always feeling dirty and low after. A crazy part of him didn’t care though; it had been the best sex of his life—no, it had been more than just sex to him.

Much more.

Steve was old, but he wasn’t a virgin. He had been with a few women in his time, but the relationships never amounted to much, and the sex, while good, had been purely physical. He had told himself at the time it was because Peggy had been his one true love, and he had missed his chance. He knew now that it wasn’t true, though.

That night with Y/N had been more than simple physical lust or sappy lovemaking. It was a coupling beyond his comprehension. He felt her, was surrounded by her, lifted up and cocooned in her warmth as he felt her heart beating against his, his fingers touching her very soul.

He wondered if it was because she was an empath, and although that might be part of it, he didn’t think it was only that. He could feel her emotions while they were together, and he knew those didn’t lie. Desire, caring affection, and above all love; and in that moment it was love for him and him alone.

The way she looked, her skin shining with afterglow and her smile genuine. She had been looking at _him_ , the look in her eyes had been for _him_ , and he had thought then that maybe she could love him as much as he loved her. He drifted off to sleep that night with her in his arms, feeling more whole than he had in a long, long time.

And then it had all gone so horribly wrong.

The sketchbook.

The goddamn sketchbook.

Steve had been horrified, followed quickly by embarrassment and a razor-sharp terror when he saw her standing at the foot of the steps, suitcase in hand. Maybe, under different circumstances, she would have seen it as the love letter he meant it to be--proof of his feelings for her--but not finding it like that.

It had come as quite a shock to her, he imagined. An entire sketchbook filled with drawings of her. They were all appropriate drawings--he wasn’t a creep--but it was still an entire sketchbook, nonetheless. In this context, it had been proof of his lie, the way he had hidden his feelings from her, using Bucky and Peggy as an excuse to shade his true feelings. She knew the truth, because that many drawings hadn’t been completed in a single night—oh, no.

Part of him wanted to burn the sketchbook. All the joy had been taken out of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was all he had left of her now.

Y/N wasn’t coming back. At first, he had thought she might, but after three weeks, his hope had dwindled to almost nothing. He supposed he should leave; after all, this was her house, not his. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave, either. Not as long as that little spark of hope still remained.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and Steve groaned and sat up. His only visitor had been the neighbor, Tom, who had been annoyingly persistent in making sure he wasn’t dead.

“What is it, Tom?” he sighed as he shuffled towards the door, hiking up his sweatpants and running a tired hand through his shaggy hair.

“It’s not Tom.”

Steve frowned and opened the front door to see Rhodey standing there.

“Well…you look like shit.”

Steve sighed and stepped aside. Rhodey walked in and cast an appraising glance around the room.

“Nat send you up here to get a head check on me?” Steve asked with a hint of bitterness.

“Yeah, and uh, I think she was right...love what you’ve done with the place, by the way.” Rhodey shook his head and looked at Steve in concern. “Dude, what the hell happened in here? It looks like a bomb went off, and you look like ‘Mr. Perfect’ Steve Rogers’ evil twin.”

Steve scoffed. “’Mr. Perfect’ Steve Rogers messed up big time and got his heart broken for his trouble—that’s what happened.”

He kicked at the clothes on the floor and then bent down to pick them up. He was seeing the mess he had made with fresh eyes now that Rhodey was here, and he was a little embarrassed.

“Um, do you want to sit down or something? I’d offer you something to drink, but all I have is water.”

“Thanks, I’ll take the water, but I think I’ll stand…that couch looks like it might be sticky if I touched it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad, Rhodey.”

“It’s not that good either, man.”

Steve went into the kitchen, looked in the cupboard and miraculously found a clean glass. He brought Rhodey his water and stood there awkwardly, his hands in his pockets as he shifted on his feet.

“H-how is she?”

Rhodey paused for a moment, considering. “She’s better. She was pretty upset when she first got there, but Nat’s been helping her work though some shit, and she’s doing a lot better now.”

“What kind of, um, things have they been working through? She’s not…she’s not hurting like before, is she?” Steve didn’t know if he was prying too much, but he couldn’t bear the thought of causing her to fall into a deep depression again.

“No, no,” Rhodey said quickly. “Nothing like that. She and Nat—I don’t know—it’s all girl talk, you know? Her feelings for Bucky, her feelings for you, the guilt and shock of it all. I don’t really pay much attention to that, it’s all pretty confusing, but she seems to be doing better. They work out a lot together—you know Nat, Miss ‘if you’re upset then go hit something.’”

“What’s she…has she said anything about me?”

Rhodey shook his head. “No, at least not to me. If she said anything it’s been to Nat, but I don’t know how she feels about…this whole thing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What do _you_ think…about this whole thing?”

Rhodey took a seat on the couch; he seemed to be over his initial aversion to its supposed stickiness. Steve sat at the other end, his hands clenched. For a while they just sat in silence, then Rhodey finally broke the silence with a sigh.

“I didn’t really know Bucky that well, but he seemed like a great guy. If he was able to snag a woman like Y/N, then he had to be one of the best…” Rhodey paused, and Steve looked up at him. “But the thing is, Bucky is dead. He’s gone, Steve, and he’s not coming back.”

“I know.”

“Everyone said how good they were together, how they seemed made for each other. Well, you know what? People have been saying the same things about you and Y/N.”

“People? Who—”

Rhodey snorted. “Man, the only people who couldn’t see how much you were in love with each other were the two of you.”

“But he was my best friend.”

“Yeah, and I know that if I were in his position I would rather have her end up with someone I loved and trusted than some random guy. She loves you Steve, and you just happen to be the guy Bucky asked to watch over her and take care of her. What more do you want?”

Steve felt his eyes start to burn. “You really think so? That she loves me?”

“Yes, I do. She’s just sorting through her own feelings right now and getting it straight in her head. She’ll be back,” Rhodey leaned back with a smile that quickly faded as he looked around the room. “Although she just might leave again when she sees the state of this place.”

Steve blushed and scratched his neck. “Yeah…it is kind of a mess in here.”

Rhodey stood and gestured to Steve. “You might wanna do something about all of this too…you look like a hobo.”

“Okay, Rhodey, I get it,” he laughed.

God, it felt good to laugh again. Somehow, hearing the words from someone else, words he was trying to convince himself of, validated everything for Steve. And to hear from an outsider that not only did Y/N love him, but that it was obvious to everyone…well, that lit a fire in him that couldn’t be dampened.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner, or something?” he asked as Rhodey shrugged his coat on.

“Naw man, I’m just passing through. I’m headed up to Tony’s for the Holidays, and I don’t want to be stuck on some back road in Bumblefuck, Maine when it gets dark.”

Steve held out his hand. “Thank you Rhodey.”

Rhodey scoffed and pulled the bigger man into a tight hug. “We’re family now, all that’s left. We’ve got to look out for each other, you know?”

***

**One Week Later**

Steve had worked like a man possessed to get it all done, but everything was finally ready. Nat had called yesterday to tell him Y/N was on her way home, and he had been grateful for the heads-up.

The projects had been completed, the tools put away, and house cleaned from top to bottom. A pot roast bubbled away in the crock pot; he had enlisted Tom’s help in putting together a simple dinner, and he was actually very proud of himself.

In her absence he had let his beard grow to a truly impressive length, but Rhodey was right—it did make him look like a hobo. So yesterday he had gone into town to get his hair and beard trimmed, brushing his longer blond locks back from his face the way he knew she liked.

He was dressed now in a flannel shirt and heavy jacket as he stood on the ladder, hanging the Christmas lights. Everything was put up; the only thing that hadn’t been done was decorating the tree, which he knew was Y/N’s favorite thing to do. He was hoping they could decorate it together later that night if everything went well.

Dusk was beginning to set, and Steve had just hung the last strand of lights and was climbing down from the ladder when he heard a car pull into the driveway. He turned slowly, his heart pounding and his palms sweaty as he saw her climb out of the cab.

She was absolutely beautiful.

She was bundled up in her jacket and scarf, with leggings and tall boots that accented her slender legs perfectly. Her hair was down, and the chill in the air had painted rose along her cheeks and nose. The corner of her mouth twitched in a small smile as her eyes latched onto him, a smile that quickly faded and was replaced by a hesitant look.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Steve answered, taking a hesitant step towards her. “Y/N…Y/N, I—"

“I don’t regret it.”

“Wh-what?” he whispered.

“I don’t regret it—any of it,” she said, taking a step towards him. “I like you Steve, and more than just as a friend. All of these feelings I have, for you and for Bucky, they’re so confusing, and when I saw the sketchbook I…I didn’t know what to do. I never should have left you like that, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry about the sketchbook Y/N, it was wrong of me—”

“No.” She shook her head. “The sketchbook…it’s beautiful, Steve. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a secret, but it’s not like we made it easy to tell each other how we felt. I don’t want you to be sorry about it, I think it’s incredibly romantic, and very much _you_.”

Steve exhaled sharply. She really did like him back. His heart was fluttering for an entirely different reason now, and he had to clear his throat before he continued.

“I never meant to scare you or hurt you, Y/N. I think by now you know how I feel about you.”

“I know, Steve. I didn’t mean to hurt you either, I’m so sorry I left like I did.” Her eyes met his, and he saw that she was on the verge of tears. He closed the distance between them and swept her up in a tight hug.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Steve felt her arms wrap around his waist as her face pressed against his neck, tears leaving a wet spot on his collar. He nuzzled her hair, inhaling her sweet scent and unable to believe that this was actually happening.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too, Y/N,” he said. He paused, chewing his bottom lip; there was only one thing bothering him now. “Y/N, about that night…I didn’t want you to think…I wasn’t taking advantage of—”

“I don’t regret that either, Steve,” she said, pulling back from him slightly. “I meant what I said. I want you. I-I want to be _yours_ , if that’s what you want too. I just…need to take things slow for a little while, if that’s all right with you.”

Steve tenderly grazed his fingers over her forehead, her cheekbones, down her jaw to her lips, and she sighed into his touch.

“I want that, more than anything.” He swallowed thickly. “Can I…is it all right if I kiss you?”

“Please,” she breathed.

The kiss was slow and sweet, her soft lips a velvet heaven against his. It was everything he remembered, but better now because it wasn’t being done in the heat of the moment. She was his, and he was hers.

Steve felt like his heart was going to burst with happiness.

He drank her in, letting out a small whimper as he felt her lips part beneath his. Her hands slipped beneath his unzipped jacket to pull him closer, and he wrapped his fingers in her hair as she took his breath away.

As if on cue, the Christmas lights on the porch turned on.

Y/N stifled a giggle. “Steven Grant Rogers, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you planned that.”

“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t,” he said coyly, smiling at her.

He untangled himself from her, grabbing her suitcase with one hand and her hand with the other. They walked up the steps to the house together, both glowing with the excitement of their newly realized feelings and content to take things one step at a time as they discovered each other inside and out.

After all, they had all the time in the world.


	12. Chapter 12

**April – Three Years after the Snap**

Steve sighed and nestled his head deeper in his pillow, savoring the warmth of the sheets and content in the comfort of routine. Just like any other morning, he could hear the soft squeak of the porch rocker, and the smell of coffee wafted up to him.

He knew very well what day it was, but instead of causing him pain, it brought him a moment of quiet reflection. He still missed everyone that had been lost, but he missed Bucky most of all. Now that he had been allowed the time to slow down and examine his feelings instead of repressing them, he realized there was so much he had never gotten the chance to say to Bucky.

And that hurt most of all.

He wished he could have told Bucky how much he loved him. He wished he could have told Bucky how much he looked up to him, how good and kind he was, how he never could have done it without him. His best friend. His other half.

Steve wished he could tell him he was sorry—sorry he didn’t catch him, and sorry he didn’t go back for him. Sorry he had so much taken from him and was made to suffer for so long. He wished he could tell Bucky that none of it was his fault, all those terrible things he was made to do for all those years. That he was worth it.

He should have told him that, at least.

Steve felt his eyes start to burn, but instead of holding back he just let the tears fall. It was okay. It was allowed. The porch rocker paused for a moment before continuing its unhurried pace. He knew Y/N was monitoring his emotions, but she was allowing him to grieve in private, and he was grateful.

Thoughts of Y/N soothed over his mind like a healing balm, and Steve quieted. For the first time in years his heart felt full. He found himself actually excited to get up in the morning, and he looked forward to what the day would bring. Another day with her. An exciting future with her, full of possibilities.

They had agreed to take things slow, dating and getting to know each other as lovers. They still slept in separate bedrooms and had yet to progress much beyond kissing, but Steve had a feeling that dam was about to be breeched soon. He could tell she wanted more--God knows he did too—but she still held back, and he would not be the one to push her.

Steve’s phone buzzed, pulling him out of pleasurable but rapidly deteriorating thoughts. It was Tony, calling off the get-together tonight due to weather. A slow grin spread across his face. Of course he wanted to see his friends, but this gave him the perfect opportunity for an impromptu date night.

He stretched and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a Henley before walking downstairs for his coffee and newspaper. As always, he grabbed a blanket from the couch before stepping out onto the porch.

Some things never changed.

***

You sat in the porch swing, watching the light sleet fall noiselessly, coating the budding trees. A wintery mix this late in the season wasn’t uncommon in this part of Maine, but it did look a bit strange. You hugged Steve’s sweater tighter against your body, your hands leeching warmth from your coffee cup. If anything, the chill to the air did more to wake you up than the coffee did.

Here you were again, one more year gone by. One more year without Bucky.

The weather’s indecision perfectly mirrored your own thoughts. The past returning, laying a film over the newly budded growth. Not taking from the present, but reminding you that it was still there.

It no longer hurt so badly to think of him. Maybe enough time had gone by. Maybe it was because you were finally starting to heal. Maybe it was because you had found another to fill some of the hole left in your heart.

You began to rock aimlessly back and forth in the swing and took a sip of your coffee.

Steven Grant Rogers.

You could feel him upstairs. He was awake and you felt his sadness, but for the moment he was okay and you let him be. It was important for you both to be allowed to work through feelings on your own sometimes—you didn’t want to smother him. There was nothing worse that having someone hover over you, trying to talk about things you hadn’t even figured out for yourself.

The past few months had been wonderful, more than you ever thought they could be. Once you had let go of your fear and guilt, being with Steve had seemed like the most natural thing in the world. He was so much like Bucky, yet so different—like two halves of the same coin. It was impossible to think of one without the other, and while that used to cause you pain, it now comforted you.

Nat had been right. Steve loved you, and you loved him. Neither had said it aloud, but it was there, you could feel it. You still weren’t ready to say goodbye to Bucky, but it no longer bothered you. You were content to let things progress at the speed that seemed natural, and stop allowing yourself to be consumed by guilt.

The screen door creaked behind you, and you scooted over to make room for Steve on the rocker. You leaned against him as he spread the blanket over you both.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, nuzzling your cheek.

You smiled as his beard tickled you, and you grazed you lips across his. He lightly caught your chin and held you there, his tongue darting into your mouth as his soft lips pressed against yours. He tasted like toothpaste and coffee, and you sighed happily as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Good morning to you,” you said, nipping at his bottom lip and making him smile.

He leaned back and tucked the blanket more firmly around you, not that you needed it with the heat radiating from his body.

“So, I have some good news and some bad news. Tony called, all this sleet here is coming down as snow up where they’re at, so he postponed the get-together until next weekend. He didn’t want us driving up in that ‘rust-covered death trap’…his words, not mine.”

You snorted. “That is a solid truck. Much better than all his fancy cars, especially in the snow.”

“I know.”

“What’s the good news? I assume that was the bad,” you teased.

Steve wrapped his arms around you. “Well, since we are now freed up for tonight, the good news is I’m gonna take my best girl out on a date. A real date.”

“And what we’ve been doing hasn’t been dating?”

You and Steve had gone out on dates before, he knew that, and you were both nervous and excited to find out what Steve considered as a ‘real date.’

“Y/N, the local diner and the movie theater in Sanford doesn’t count…at least, not in my book. We’re going over to York Beach, Tom helped me pick out a couple of places I want to take you to.”

“Should I be nervous that Tom is helping plan our date?”

Steve laughed. “We’re of a like mind when it comes to how a woman should be treated, and he helped me find what I was looking for. Tom may be old, but remember I’m technically thirty years older than him.”

“All right, old man, date night it is,” you said, kissing him. “How about some breakfast, then? It’s the least I can do if you’ve already got everything else planned.”

“I will never say no to your breakfasts,” Steve said, following you into the kitchen.

After preparing enough pancakes, bacon, and eggs to feed a small army, you settled in at the counter next to Steve. You finished your breakfast, and laughed aloud as Steve took second and third helpings of everything.

“You super soldiers and your stomachs. I don’t know what I would have done if I ever had to feed both you _and_ Bucky.”

Steve didn’t say anything, he simply put his arm around you. You reached up and held his hand, intertwining your fingers as you leaned into him.

“I have something for you,” he said, kissing your temple before jumping up and walking into the living room. His voice was muffled as he dug through his art bag, frowning.

“I actually finished it a couple weeks ago, I was saving it for today…shoot, I left it up in my room, be right back.”

You chuckled and got up from the counter. You were loading dishes into the dishwasher when Steve came down, slightly out of breath and face flushed.

“Found it. It’s um, well…I hope you like it,” he said awkwardly, handing you a flat, rectangular package wrapped in newspaper.

You smiled at him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently removed the newspaper. It was a canvas, about ten inches square. You flipped it over, and your mouth fell open.

It was Bucky, painted in stunning realism. The perfect blue-grey of his eyes twinkling mischievously, the way his nose slightly scrunched up as he smiled…Steve had captured it all. It was Bucky—your Bucky, right there in front of you, so real you could almost touch him.

Your heart felt so full. The image wavered as tears sprang to your eyes, and you let them fall.

“Oh. Oh honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

You cut him off, wrapping one arm around him and leaning your head on his shoulder. “Steve, I’m not upset, it’s…it’s so beautiful. Thank you.”

“You really like it?”

“I love it. It’s…it’s just so perfect, I feel like he’s right here in front of me,” you said, running your fingers lightly over the painting, feeling the dips and ridges of dried paint. “What photo did you use as a reference? I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one.”

Steve smiled sadly, running his own hand over the painting. “I didn’t use one. I painted this from memory. It’s how he looks whenever I think about him…and as long as we have that, he’s never really gone.”

You were silent for a moment, staring down at the painting. Steve was right. You knew in that moment you could never forget Bucky’s face, the way his voice sounded, or the way it felt to be wrapped in his arms. Bucky was etched on your heart, now and forever.

He would always be with you, no matter what you did or who you chose.

You gently laid the painting down and turned to Steve. Without a word, he folded you into his embrace, holding you to his chest and running his fingers through your hair. You closed your eyes and listened to his heart’s steady cadence, each precious beat tethering you to this life and making you feel complete.

***

“So are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope,” Steve grinned, “You’re just gonna have to wait till we get there, sweetheart.”

All he had told you was to wear comfortable shoes, which was about as cryptic as could be.

You snorted…men.

A little snooping on your part rewarded you with a glimpse of what he was wearing. You decided on a cap-sleeve swing dress and your most comfortable pair of heels, and you even spent a little extra time on your hair and makeup, feeling very pretty as you stood in front of your mirror.

Your cheeks were flushed with excitement, and you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips at the thought of what the night would bring. Tossing a few items into your purse, you cursed as your lipstick bounced off and hit the floor, rolling under the bed.

As you bent down to retrieve it, a familiar weight spilled out of the front of your dress, the two dogtags making a clinking noise as they hit the floor. Bucky’s dogtags. You wrapped your fist around them and sat on the bed.

Whether it was out of loyalty or a fear of forgetting, the tags had never left your neck. You had clung to them like a security blanket, but now they almost felt like they weighed you down. It wasn’t fair to Steve—not when you didn’t really need them anymore. Bucky would always be with you, and you didn’t need a little piece of metal to remind you of that.

You stood, looking up at the painting Steve had given you that morning, hanging over your nightstand. “I love you, Bucky,” you whispered as you lovingly ran your fingers over its surface.

Slowly, you lifted the dogtags over your head, holding them for a minute before hanging them on the painting. You stepped back, feeling lighter.

Clutching your bare neck, you rummaged through your jewelry box until you found the necklace Bucky had given you the last Christmas you were together. It was a tiny diamond, set in the middle of a compass rose. He called you his north star, the one that led him out of his darkness, and you thought it appropriate since Steve had done the same for you. In a way, you felt like you were keeping them both close to your heart by wearing it.

A light knock at your door broke you from your thoughts. You opened your door, and your eyes went wide as heat rose to your cheeks and somewhere…well…lower.

Steve stood in your doorway in an immaculately tailored suit and tie, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. It was so delightfully corny yet so incredibly romantic your heart just melted at the sight of him. His blond locks were brushed back casually, his eyes fixed on you, and you realized he was staring, just as speechless as you were.

“Y-you’re beautiful, Y/N,” he stammered, his cheeks blushing adorably.

You sighed, taking in his appearance as your lips tugged into a slow smile. “Steven Grant Rogers, what am I going to do with you.”

Steve took a step towards you and your breath hitched as you admired the way his muscles shifted beneath the suit. He looked so incredibly handsome you couldn’t tear your eyes away, yet at the same time all you wanted to do was rip the suit off of him. He handed you the flowers, leaning down to kiss your cheek. He lingered for a moment, grazing his lips against your ear.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he whispered. He straightened, grinning wickedly as you blushed, offering you his arm as he led the way down to the waiting truck.

The ride wasn’t too long, only about thirty minutes, but you were nearly vibrating with anticipation as you pulled into town. It was still early in the year, and most businesses in the little beach community were still closed for the season. Steve pulled the truck over, easily finding a parking spot on Main Street.

It had been years since you had been here, and you looked around, getting your bearings as Steve opened your door and helped you down out of the truck. He had parked in front of a cute little Italian restaurant. Inside you could see a few people seated already; it didn’t look too fancy, but it was intimate and romantic all the same.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Steve said as you took his hand. “Tom swears this is the best Italian in New England…a bold statement, but I trust him.”

He slowly spun you around, pointing to an older building across the street. It was an honest-to-god dance hall, and it was open. Lively swing music could be heard through the double doors, and you grinned.

“If you’re up for it later…We might be the youngest ones in there, but I promise to show you a good time.”

You laughed out loud. “I’ll have to thank Tom for his help, it’s absolutely perfect Steve. I would love to go dancing with you. We’ll have to see if you can keep up with me, though,” you teased.

“Swing dancing? You do know I’m from 1945, right?” he scoffed. He held the door to the restaurant open for you and followed you inside.

***

Steve was going to have to thank Tom himself after tonight. It really had been the perfect date.

Dinner was excellent; he didn’t think Tom had been exaggerating in his statement about the food’s quality. The setting had been romantic and intimate to be sure, but not so much as to put pressure on the young couple.

The dance hall had been a surprise as well. There were quite a few younger people out on the dance floor, and both Steve and Y/N had been pleasantly surprised. They started slowly at first, dancing hesitantly as they found their rhythm together. Soon they were spinning effortlessly through more advanced moves, both of them laughing and having the time of their lives.

Y/N was a great dancer. Steve already knew that, of course, but he was surprised she could swing dance. He wondered if Bucky had taught her; Bucky had been one of the best dancers he knew, and the ladies had been all over him when they would go out together.

The thought of Bucky teaching Y/N to dance didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. That was in the past, and Y/N was with him now. If anything, it felt like Bucky was there with them, and it brought him a sense of peace.

The song changed to a slower song— _Moonlight Serenade_. The dance floor was a bit more crowded now, the slow instrumental drawing out the older crowd. Steve didn’t care. He looked down at Y/N, her face flushed from her exertion and her eyes smiling up at him, and at that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed happily as she carded her fingers through his hair.

Steve felt the sway of her hips under his hands, the warmth of her body pressed up against his, and he drank her in, every touch, every inch of her, never wanting the song to end. He tilted her chin up, drawing his thumb over her lower lip as she inhaled slowly. They kissed, a soft, slow caress that did not betray the fire burning beneath the surface. He felt her hands tighten their grasp, and he broke away, struggling to control his breathing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice husky.

The ride back was spent in companionable silence, and he held her hand the entire way, letting go only to shift the truck into gear. He stole glances at her. She looked like she was debating something internally, her fingers absently playing with her necklace.

Steve realized with a start that she wasn’t wearing Bucky’s dogtags; he had never seen this necklace before. What did that mean? Steve’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion laced with hope, and once again he felt like a nervous teen with his first girl.

Y/N sighed contently as they walked into the house, and she kicked off her heels. It was really late, and they headed straight up to their respective bedrooms, pausing in the hallway between them.

“Thank you Steve, it was…it was really the best date I’ve ever had.”

“I’m glad, I had a great time, Y/N,” he said.

Steve stepped in, meaning to only kiss her goodnight, even though he wanted much more. So he was surprised when she grabbed his tie and drew him in, gently but firmly, kissing him with a passion that left him weak in the knees.

Steve moaned softly and wrapped his fingers in her hair, tilting her head back so he could kiss down the length of her neck, stopping at the hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse beat wildly.

“Steve, I…I want…would you stay tonight? I want you to stay,” she gasped.

He pulled back slightly. “Are you sure?” God, he wanted her to say yes.

She looked up at him and rested her hand on his cheek. He flinched as she pushed her emotions to him, baring her heart and showing him how much she loved and desired him. He was surprised at the strength of her feelings, yet he knew she couldn’t fake that.

Steve exhaled sharply and he took her hand in his as she led him into her room, closing the door softly behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff, Smut, Angst
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**July**

“Why…in god’s name…did people…make staircases so…small!” Nat huffed as she shouldered the mattress.

You grunted and tried to push it further down the narrow staircase. “I don’t know, ask Steve—he’s the one that just turned a hundred and three.”

Today was Steve’s birthday. Everyone had come up a day early to celebrate—cookout, bonfire, fireworks, and some Asgardian mead that Bruce produced seemingly out of nowhere. You had politely declined, deciding to play it safe with a couple glasses of wine. Those who partook were paying for it today, and you were glad of your decision; the only ones who seemed immune to its effects were Bruce and Steve. 

Rhodey, Bruce, and Tom had taken Steve into the city for a baseball game, and although you would’ve paid good money to see Bruce squeeze his giant green ass into a stadium seat (or three), you and Nat had other plans.

You were turning Steve’s room into an artist’s studio as a surprise for his birthday. You had been researching for weeks, finding out what the best artists supplies were, what he would need, and then designing the space as his own creative retreat.

Since that night in April Steve had shared your bed every night, but the symbolism of having two bedrooms still spoke volumes about where your relationship was. You knew he wanted more—perks of being an empath—and you were finally ready to meet him there.

But first you had to get his mattress down the stairs.

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” Nat said, her voice muffled. “On the count of three, push as hard as you can.”

“What are you going to—”

“One, two, three!”

Nat yelped and jumped out of the way as the mattress popped free of the staircase, bouncing down the stairs and slinking to the floor. You both collapsed on it, laughing and sweating profusely.

“Well, that’s the first time I can honestly say I’ve had my ass kicked by a mattress,” Nat said.

“You and me both. I had no idea it would be so heavy and awkward.”

Nat raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Oh really? Because it seems like you’re well acquainted with this particular mattress.”

“Nat!”

“Sorry, sorry, I can’t help teasing you a little…good for you two. It took you guys long enough.”

“It probably _never_ would have happened without you and Rhodey,” you sighed, remembering the tension of the previous year.

“I know…we just about had an aneurysm trying to get you two to admit your feelings.”

You looked over at her, your expression serious. “Thank you Nat, I mean it.”

She smiled and leaned her head against your shoulder. “Are you happy, Y/N?”

“I am,” you said, grinning. “I really and truly am. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way, not after Bucky. I miss him, I still do, but that was a different chapter of my life. I’m happy now, being with Steve, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“That’s what friends are for. To help you through the dark times and smack you up the side of the head when you’re being an idiot.”

You snorted and accepted Nat’s hand as she pulled you to your feet.

“Okay, what’s next?” she asked. “We’ve only got a couple more hours before the boys are home.”

“Well, we’ve got to get this thing to the storage area above the garage, and then set everything up.”

Two hours later, you and Nat were leaning in the doorway of Steve’s new studio, ice-cold beers in hand. Nat’s eyes danced around the room, and she suppressed a squeal and bounced up and down in a very un-Nat-like fashion.

“Oh my god, Y/N, he’s gonna love it! Seriously, you have to take a reaction pic and text it to me.”

“You guys aren’t sticking around?”

Nat smirked. “No…I told the guys I had to get back to the Compound for a meeting first thing tomorrow. I think tonight should be for you guys…if you know what I mean,” she said, cocking an eyebrow suggestively.

You groaned, blushing a deep shade of red.

Nat chuckled and smacked your rear as she turned to leave. “Go get ‘im, tiger!”

“Nat!”

Sputtering with embarrassment and trying to suppress the heat rising in your core as your imagination went wild, you closed the door softly behind you.

*

“All I’m saying is, you can root for the little guy all you like—which is commendable to be sure—but you’ll never beat the 1932 lineup. Nine, count ‘em, _nine_ hall-of-famers…Combs, Dickey, Ruth, Gehrig—”

Steve sputtered, cutting Tom off. “You can buy all the heavy-hitters you want, but they didn’t have the heart of the Dodgers.”

Rhodey groaned. “Oh my god, will you two stop? Six hours you two have been at it. _Six hours_! I can’t take it anymore. Yankees…Dodgers…who cares?”

“We do,” Tom and Steve said together.

The SUV pulled into the driveway and the four men got out, still arguing amicably. It was one of the best birthdays Steve could remember; between last night and today, it had been fun to hang out with his friends and let loose a bit. Rhodey had said they were going to hit the road after the game—something about Nat having an early meeting—and Steve had to admit he was looking forward to tonight with Y/N.

She had been coyly cryptic for weeks about his birthday surprise. Steve normally didn’t like a big fuss made over him, but she was so enthusiastic he couldn’t help but be a little excited.

As they walked up to the house, the girls emerged from the garage, and Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest when he saw her. She was dressed in short cutoff jeans and a tight tee that betrayed her curves, her hair drawn back in a messy bun that left him weak at the knees.

Rhodey took one look at him and chuckled. “Steve, it’s been fun but we’ve got to hit the road. Early day tomorrow.” He wrapped his arm around the blonde in a one-armed hug. “Happy birthday, man.”

Nat and Bruce wished him a happy birthday and followed Rhodey into the car, and Tom waved to him as he walked back over to his house, throwing a knowing glance over his shoulder that made Steve blush.

Watching the car disappear down the road, Y/N walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She stood on her toes and kissed him, and her lips held a new sort of fire that left him breathless. Steve’s hands slid down her cutoff shorts, stopping just short of the fringe on the edge.

God, he wanted to dip his fingers under that fringe.

Y/N’s eyes flashed as she pulled away, and she smiled up at him.

“Did you have a good time?”

Steve swallowed thickly, composing himself. “I did. What did you and Nat do all day?”

“Worked on your birthday surprise. Wanna come see?”

Without waiting for an answer she grabbed him by the hand and led him into the house. They didn’t stop until they reached the closed door of his bedroom. Steve frowned, and he saw her door was closed too.

“Y/N, what—”

“Close your eyes,” she instructed.

Steve dutifully complied, and he felt her hands on his back, pushing him into the room as she opened the door. His brow furrowed when he smelled fresh paint, and…canvas?

“Open them.”

He was speechless. His bed and the rest of his things were gone. The room had been transformed into an artist’s studio, exactly what he had always pictured in his mind but had never had the time to actually make happen.

A large utilitarian rug ran the length of the room, just the right shade to absorb paint that might be dropped. Two easels stood in the perfect locations to catch both the morning and afternoon sunlight. There was a workbench and shelving unit, stacks of canvas. He looked closer, and he saw that she had stocked up on all the paints he would even need—oils and acrylics, watercolors.

The whole room had been painted a neutral beige, with one accent wall a deep blue. On the wall was stenciled a quote in a light smoke color:

_“The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.”— Auguste Rodin_

The French sculptor was one of Steve’s favorites, mainly for his adherence to realism. But he also loved the quote, and he was touched that she’d picked it. It not only rang true to his approach with art, but it spoke volumes about their relationship.

Steve felt his eyes start to burn. She’d done all this—for him.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” she said, coming up behind him softly and wrapping her arms around his middle.

He sniffed. God, he was going to turn into a blubbering mess, if he didn’t watch out.

“It’s perfect Y/N, thank you.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her temple. She was such a sweet, thoughtful girl, to do all of this. She knew he always wanted to paint more, but he’d never had the time nor the supplies. Now that the house was done he’d have more time, and—wait.

“Where’s my stuff?” he asked.

Slowly she spun him around. The door to her bedroom was open, only it wasn’t her bedroom anymore.

It was theirs.

***

Dinner had been phenomenal, as always. Y/N had outdone herself in the kitchen, and they’d sat down by the water afterwards for quite a while, talking and laughing. He’d brought down some cards, and they played rummy, just like he and Buck used to.

He was still sitting down there in his shorts when she excused herself up to the house, saying she’d be right back. Steve laid his head back and looked up at the stars, sighing contently as a warm evening breeze blew over him. It really had been a perfect day.

The screen door banged shut, and he heard her quiet footsteps as she padded up behind him, barefoot in the soft grass. He turned and was surprised to see she had already changed into her satin robe.

“Getting ready to head to bed? I know it’s been a long day…” he trailed off as she bent down and nipped his earlobe, her fingers trailing down the back of his neck and making him shiver despite the heat.

“Thought I’d take a swim before bed.”

She stood and grinned slyly at him, and he watched in confusion as she walked to the water’s edge and dropped her robe.

She was completely naked underneath.

Steve went rigid and his jaw dropped, his eyes running hungrily over her body. Moonlight painted her body silver, and she looked like an ethereal goddess of the sea as she stepped into the water. His heart thudded in his chest.

“You coming?”

Steve nearly fell out of the chair in his haste to get up.

Still in his shorts, he waded into the water and swam out to where she was treading water near the end of the pier. She ducked underwater and he felt her glide past him, tugging on his shorts as she came up.

“I don’t think you need those anymore,” she said playfully.

Steve blushed and looked around, suddenly grateful their little pier was sheltered so heavily by the tree line. He slid off his shorts and tossed them on the pier, reveling in the sense of freedom.

Steve was trembling, and it wasn’t because of the water temperature. Y/N glided past him again, and he felt her brush against his naked body, sending his heart into overdrive.

“What’s the matter, never skinny-dipped before?” she teased.

“Well uh, yeah, but it wasn’t like…this.”

This was a side of her he hadn’t seen before, and _damn_ was it turning him on. She flitted past him again and he caught her ankle, tugging her backwards sharply and into his arms. The contrast of her warm body against his as the cool water pressed against them was intoxicating. He ran his hand down her side, admiring her curves.

“You’re gonna give an old man a heart attack,” he said.

She pressed her hand against his chest, and he knew she could feel the frenzy beneath. “I think your heart can handle it.”

She giggled again and pulled him underwater. It was deep off the end of the pier, and in the moonlight the colors were muted, navy and black and silver. She swam up to him, looking for all the world like a real live mermaid.

Steve cupped her face and drew her in for a kiss. Her lips parted beneath his, bubbles escaping and floating lazily upwards. He hugged her to him, releasing her when he felt her start to need air. He bobbed to the surface after her, and just stared, admiring the way her hair fanned out across the water and the droplets of water ran down her breasts.

Steve pressed her up against the pier. She grabbed the piling and held on as he wrapped an arm around her waist, leaving his free hand to explore her body.

Everything was different in the water. It wasn’t the first time he’d pleasured her, and it certainly wasn’t the first time they’d have sex, but something about doing it out in the open where the whole world could see…it was like they didn’t have to hide their feelings anymore, from others or themselves.

It felt different, too. Her body was slick and hot against his as they both bobbed weightlessly in the cool water. Steve flexed his arm as he lifted her up, holding her out of the water a little while his fingers ventured south. Her lips were soft and she tasted like wine and chocolate, and she let out a needy little whimper as his fingers found her core.

Her head was thrown back and she gasped as he slipped another finger inside, moaning as he felt her clench around him. Her legs brushed against him. Releasing her hold on the pier, her hands dipped underwater, and he groaned obscenely as he felt her take hold of him.

He was getting close. Steve turned them both around so his back was to the pier, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. One push and he was in, the two of them establishing a rhythm and giggling a little as they tried to fight against the weightlessness.

Soon neither of them were giggling, and in the little cove around their pier nothing could be heard except the harsh panting, splashes and moans as the couple made love beneath the moon.

Steve’s heart was pounding. It was taking them both a bit longer than usual, and as a result the intensity of the fire in his belly was enough to burn him alive. The muscles in his neck corded as he felt her release with a breathy cry that made him dizzy. His thrusts grew erratic, his breathing uneven as he felt himself fall over the edge. He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck as he filled her, twitching as she continued to squeeze him.

For a while they just bobbed together, neither wanting to release their hold on the other. Y/N kissed him, and the world began and ended in her embrace. Steve never wanted that moment to end, but there was something he had to say first.

He broke away and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing heavily.

“Y/N.”

He seemed to say so much with that one word, and he both wanted and dreaded what was about to come next. His gaze found hers, and he reached out to caress her cheekbone.

“I love you.”

Before she could answer, he closed his eyes and shook his head, pulling away slightly.

“No... I don’t want you to say anything. I-I know what this means, and I’m not asking anything from you.” He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. 

“I loved Peggy. I love her still…and I miss her every day. When she died, a piece of my heart died along with her.”

“Bucky was my best friend, and I would have done anything for him. When he died, another piece of me died as well. He…He asked me to take care of you. He said if anything happened—” Steve’s voice broke on the last word. He swallowed hard, and when he looked at her his eyes were filled with tears. “If anything happened to him, he wanted me to take care of you. To make sure you weren’t alone.

“You were my friend. I couldn’t bear to see you hurting. I…I know what that feels like. To be ripped apart, day after day. You and Bucky were both my friends, and out of friendship to you both, I wanted to ease your pain.

“I just didn’t expect to fall in love with you.” He reached out to her face, but his hand halted midair.

“I’m not asking anything from you, and if you don’t feel that way, it’s okay…I can deal with that. But I _want_ you to know how I feel. After all the death, all the pain and hurt—whatever’s left of my heart—it belongs to you, Y/N.”

He fell silent, his gaze defiant and fearful—fearful that she wouldn’t return his feelings despite the defiant spark of hope that gleamed within him.

Yes—he loved Peggy.

Yes—Bucky was his best friend, and he loved him as well. But Y/N…she completed him in a way he hadn’t thought possible. They were two tortured souls bridging the gap and finding comfort and love within one another.

Or so he hoped.

Y/N closed her eyes, and a tear trickled down her face. Steve’s heart stopped. Had he gone too far? She looked at him, her teary eyes flicking back and forth between his. For once, she’d completely blocked him off from her emotions, so he had no idea what she was feeling.

Finally she let out a shuddering breath and nodded. She leaned forward, grazing her lips against his.

“I love you too, Steve.”

***

You lay in bed, and watched the blond sleeping peacefully beside you. He looked ten years younger, even with his beard. All the worry lines on his face had smoothed, and the early morning sunlight was bringing out the auburn in his hair and making his skin glow.

You had both slept in. In the bed you now shared. Together. The bed you shared with Steve Rogers.

No matter how many times you told yourself that, it still sounded surreal. Not in a bad way, no—but in a startling way, especially when you thought about everything that had happened to bring you to this point.

Last night had been more eventful that either of you had expected. The sex in the moonlight had been followed by a thorough christening of your new room, and you were still worn out. In a good way.

And words had been said. It had shocked you at first, but you’d said them back. You loved Steve, you honestly and truly did, and now he knew it too.

God—you missed Bucky so much. Every day held a reminder of him, and you would give anything to have him back. The hole in your heart had once threatened to swallow you whole, but you had survived. And now…now you felt as if what remained of you heart had been brought back into existence by the very man that lay next to you.

Light caresses down the muscles of his chest, and Steve’s eyes fluttered open. He rolled on his side, smiling sweetly at you. You hummed as he carded his fingers through your hair, looking at you in wonder.

“I love you Steve.”

His lips twitched. He seemed both surprised and pleased that you had said it first, because now, being said like this, it meant so much more.

It wasn’t being whispered in the heat of passion, cloaked by darkness. It was uttered boldly in the morning light, naked in its truth and honesty. You _meant_ it.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You both did.

“Come here,” he said, drawing you into his arms.

They felt warm and strong around you, your place of safety and comfort. Your place of love. The sun crept across the bedsheets as you held each other, kissing and touching and murmuring sweetly to one another.

You had given that last little piece of yourself to him, and there was something you had to do now. For you, and for Bucky. It was time to say goodbye.

“Steve?”

He hummed, looking down at you.

“I want to bury Bucky.”

Steve was silent for a moment, his brow wrinkled in confusion, and you understood why. Bucky had been blown to dust, snapped out of existence. There was no body. There was nothing to bury.

Except there was.

“All of his things, his shirts and the ticket stubs, his books and all the little things I kept from him, I want to bury it. I’m keeping the picture album and the necklace he gave me, but the rest…it’s not healthy to keep holding onto that. I…I want to have a funeral for him.”

Steve looked down at you, questioningly concerned.

“It’s okay. I know it’s weird—”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I understand, I really do.”

You felt his truthfulness. “I want to start a life with you, a _real_ life. I want to give myself completely to you, and I can’t do that if I’m still holding onto him. I will _always_ love Bucky, and I will always miss him, but…” you took a deep breath. “I’m ready to let him go. I’m ready to say goodbye.”

“Okay.”

***

You had the funeral two days later. It was just you and Steve, because it wasn’t a funeral at all, not really. You had found a large rock at the end of the fieldstone fence that surrounded the property, and Steve had painted it. A simple black and white portrait of Bucky, along with the words:

_James Buchanan Barnes_

_March 10 th, 1917 – April 27th, 2018_

_Gone but not forgotten_

You and Steve both dug the hole. There was a lot of roots, and you were both sweating by the time you were done. It wasn’t a large box, maybe two feet by two, but it was still a lot of work. It was cathartic for you. You wanted it to be hard, you wanted it to hurt and raise blisters on your hands.

You both showered, separately, and dressed in black. To an outsider it was probably ridiculous, but to you, every detail was important. You wanted a proper goodbye, as hard as it was.

The spot you picked was beautiful. Down by the water, under the shade of a sturdy oak tree. One that would be around for awhile to watch over your Bucky. You didn’t know where he was, but all that remained of him on this earth was in that box, along with a piece of your heart.

Steve helped you lower the box into the hole. It wasn’t too heavy, but it seemed right that you do it together. You knelt at the edge and kissed your fingertips, touching them to the box and nodding to Steve. He started to shoved the dirt back in, and you stood back.

The stone was placed. None of you had been overly religious, so you didn’t waste time with flowery speeches. Silence seemed the best eulogy.

Steve knelt down and placed his hand on the stone, and you stepped back to give him privacy. He murmured soft and low, too quiet for you to hear, and you didn’t try. You’d closed yourself off from his feelings as well. This was a private moment.

Steve stood, brushing off his knees. He took your hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be up at the house, take all the time that you need.”

You nodded, and he left. Kneeling in the soft grass, you plucked absently at a few blades.

“Hi Bucky.”

You were quiet for a moment, and it seemed like he was there, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves. The tears started, but that was okay. You knew they would.

“I…I hope…I wish…”

God, this was hard.

You took a deep breath, and started again. “I’d like to think that you’re looking down on me right now, but I don’t…I don’t…”

All the grief, all the heartache and pain was coming back to you now. Maybe not as fresh anymore, but still just as painful.

“I miss you.”

You sat on the ground next to the stone, and looked out over the water.

“It’s really beautiful here, Bucky. I wish you could see it. I know you loved Wakanda, but I know you’d like it here too. Not in the winter—god, you’d hate the winters here, but still…we’d get you a thick coat and you could sit in front of the fireplace all day long if you liked, I could snuggle with you under the blankets and it’d be just like…”

You drifted off, your head bowed. “But you’re not here. You’re gone. I never got to say goodbye, never got to tell you I loved you one last time, and I guess…I guess that’s what I’m trying to do now. Because I’m ready.

“You were going to ask me to marry you. I would’ve said yes, and our life would’ve been so beautiful together. We’d leave the Avengers, live in Wakanda and raise our children together. They’d have your beautiful blue eyes, I know they would. I can see it all so clearly, like it’s already happened.

Your face darkened. “But you were taken from us. A roll of the dice, a snap of the fingers, and you were gone. Just like that. It’s not fair, and it’s not what you deserved, and I’m sorry.”

The tears were flowing again, and you wiped your face. “Your letter. Steve gave it to me, maybe a little bit late, but I got it all the same. I know you wanted me to move on. To be happy, to live my life. I almost didn’t. I almost drowned in my grief, but Steve saved me.

“You’re right,” you laughed, blinking through the tears. “He’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s a good man. I love him. If you can hear me, then I know you know this already.”

You rolled onto your knees and started at the portrait Steve had painted. It looked so real, almost like a photograph.

“I love you Bucky. You will always have a place in my heart, and you will always be my first love. But I’m ready to let go. I’m ready to move on, and I’m not going to hold you to this world any longer. I hope wherever you are you’re happy and at peace, because I finally am.”

You bent down, tenderly kissing the stone. Above you, the wind rustled the trees.

“I love you Bucky. Goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update this one, I've finished with another of my multi-chapter fics so I'm hoping top update this more regularly. Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you enjoyed it so far!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**April – Four Years After the Snap**

Steve watched her walk down to the water. April 27th had come again, and he knew where she was going.

She was going to visit Bucky’s grave.

She didn’t go down there every day, but she went often…although Steve had noticed she’d been going less frequently lately. He turned back to the sink where he was scrubbing the dishes from breakfast. April 27th was a hard day for both of them, but it hit her harder. Steve had told her he’d take care of the clean-up, giving her the time she needed to reflect.

And, as it turned out, he needed some time to think as well.

A thought had been nagging him, and idea worming its way into his head, ever since his birthday last year. When Y/N had given herself, freely and fully, to him. Ok, well, maybe not the exact thought he was having, but it was close.

Steve had never felt so happy. Their life was perfect—not in the conventional sense, but it was perfect for _them_. There had been a few arguments, of course, but they never lasted long and were always followed by blisteringly hot makeup sex. Steve hated the arguments, but he was a huge fan of the makeup sex afterwards.

There were still times where one or the other would slide into depression, panicked nightmares recalling horrors of the past. Hurt and comfort, ups and downs, a healthy push and pull. They had gotten through the dark times. T _ogether_.

Their love had continued to grow. Y/N was so much freer with herself now, not shielding her emotions from him anymore. And _that_ , to Steve, said it all. Y/N was incredibly physical with her affections, something that took him by surprise at first, but now he found he couldn’t live without it.

Above all, they were friends. Able to walk the line and communicate with each other without the haze of their relationship clouding the waters. They had fun together. They visited their other friends together.

They lived.

And Steve found that he didn’t want that to stop. Not ever. He wanted to continue building their lives together. He wanted to take that final step with her—the plunge.

He imagined asking the question, and her saying yes. Tearfully. Joyfully. He imagined slipping the ring on her finger, first as they sat cuddled together in the living room, and then later, standing together, white lace and flowers as they promised to love and keep each other forever.

He imagined traveling with her, seeing the world—far off places they’d only dreamed about together. Y/N loved to travel, yet in the past four years they had barely ventured out of Maine. Steve wasn’t sure why, the time just hadn’t seemed right.

There would be time for that now, though.

He imagined the years passing by as they both grew older, changing. Dancing together in the kitchen. Swimming in the lake. Long, steamy nights in bed and soft cuddles in the morning light.

Steve smiled as he continued to load the dishwasher. He imagined her belly swollen with their child. Soft skin giving way to a firm roundness, and a tiny heart beating…movement just beneath the surface. Something so wonderful and precious, cocooned and nourished by both her body and their love.

He imagined going for walks together, teaching them how to paint. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter—the child would be perfect, something they had created together. Finally, a family of his own.

It was something Steve never thought he would have. Not after the war and the Valkyrie. Not after Peggy. This was his second chance, and he wasn’t going to miss it this time.

Steve was going to ask Y/N to marry him.

Steve could still see Bucky’s face, as clear as day. Pulling the ring from his pocket and showing it proudly to his best friend.

_“I’m going to do it, Steve. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”_

The excited glow in Bucky’s face had made him seem years younger, all of the horrors of his past forgotten. And then later, when the mad Titan had come to call, Steve saw the terror in Bucky’s eyes as he pleaded with his friend.

_“Just promise me you’ll get her out of here if this thing goes south…if I’m not around…”_

_“Buck—”_

_Bucky glanced up at his friend and gripped his arm firmly. “Steve…I need you to promise me, please. Promise me that if something happens—”_

_“Bucky, no.”_

_“No! Listen to me—I need you to promise that if anything happens to me, you’ll take care of Y/N. Watch out for her, make sure she’s okay. Please, Steve—I don’t want her to be alone.”_

Steve clenched his hands in the soapy dishwater, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. It wasn’t fair, what had happened to Bucky. It wasn’t fair, what they had all lost. But here was Steve’s chance to make good on his promise to Bucky, once and for all.

“I promised you I’d watch over her, Buck, and that’s what I’m doing. I miss you pal, more than words can say. Wherever you are, I hope you’re able to look down and see how well she’s doing, and how happy she is. I’m going to keep my promise to you, Buck. She’ll never be alone.”

Steve wiped his eyes and saw Y/N heading back up towards the house. 

“I’m with her until the end of the line. I promise.”

***

**December**

Steve was hiding something, you could tell. It wasn’t like you were _trying_ to figure it out, but the man was about as subtle as a hand grenade in the shorts. He was trying so hard to not think about it when he was around you, that you couldn’t help but find out.

And when you did, you were glad you hadn’t resorted to blocking him. You needed time to process.

Steve was going to ask you to marry him. Nat had confirmed it, during one slightly panicked girl’s night while the boys were over at Tom’s for a boys-only poker night.

You were both sitting on the couch, halfway through a bottle of wine when you asked her.

“Nat, has Steve said anything to you and Rhodey about marriage?”

Nat nearly spat out her Pinot Noir.

“What makes you think—”

“You know, for an ex-assassin, you have a terrible poker face,” you said, filling up both your glasses again. “I’m an empath, remember? It’s basically like mind reading, but without the context. It’s actually pretty frustrating.”

Nat hummed and sipped. “What makes you ask?”

“Steve’s hiding something. It’s a good something, I can tell, but he’s really, really anxious at the same time. That, and I saw on his browser history he visited _the Knot_ seventeen times last week.”

“You’re spying on his browser history?” Nat’s eyebrows arched appreciatively.

“No! I’m not spying,” you said, your face coloring. “Well, not intentionally at least. It’s a shared computer, and it just came up when I was Googling tickets for the Knicks. You know, for Rhodey’s birthday?”

Nat sighed, and narrowed her eyes at you. She seemed to be making up her mind. Finally, she caved.

“Okay, but I’m only talking about this with you because I know your circumstance is…unique.”

“So it’s true?”

“You know three weeks ago, when Steve told you he had to with Rhodey to observe the new batch of SHIELD recruits?”

“Yeah…”

“They were ring shopping. I don’t know if he’s picked it up yet, all I know is that he must have ordered something, because they were grinning like a couple of idiots when they got back.”

You were silent. So it _was_ true.

You didn’t know how you felt. Happy, excited, honored, nervous, scared…sad. If Steve asked you to marry him and you said yes, then your relationship with him officially exceeded the relationship you’d had with Bucky.

And you honestly didn’t know what to do with that.

“Sweetie? You okay?”

“I…I don’t know, Nat.” Your voice was hoarse. “I…I guess I’m glad I know about it beforehand and can have time to process it, I could only imagine the look on his face if I told him I needed time to think about it.”

“And do you? Have to think about it?”

You hesitated. Did you? Did you _really_?

No.

You loved Steve with all your heart. You couldn’t compare what you had with Steve with what you had between Bucky, because it was _different_. You didn’t love either of them more or less than the other, you loved them both separately. Equally.

But Bucky was dead, and Steve was right here. And when he asked you to marry him, what else could you say but yes?

***

**Christmas Eve**

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas,_

_Let your heart be light_

_From now on our troubles will be out of sight._

A roaring fire crackled in the hearth, stockings had been hung, and next to them the lights twinkled on the tree. Outside, the weather-man had proven to be right for once, and a good six inches of freshly fallen snow had ensured a white Christmas.

The ham was in the oven and the dinner preparations had been completed, and you were reclined against Steve on the couch, glass of wine in one hand and your book in the other. Your feet were snuggled under the knitted throw, Steve’s fingers absently rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder.

Steve himself was miles away, lost in thought as he watched the sun go down over the lake through the large picture window. It was your favorite time of day, especially during the winter—the setting sun reflecting off the crystals in the snow in brilliant displays of orange, while indigo shadows stretched across the frozen landscape.

You sighed happily and took a sip of your wine. You needed it.

You’d been blocking Steve’s emotions with everything you had, and it was exhausting. His excitement and anxiety had reached a fever pitch over the last few days, culminating to the point where you knew exactly what was coming. A small, knowing smile flitted across your face. Steve saw it, and kissed your temple.

“Hey—you wanna go for a walk before dinner?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s a bit warm in here. Be good to clear our heads a bit.”

You followed Steve to the coat rack, pulling on your knee-high Hunter boots and heavy jacket. As you dressed, you peeked at him. Steve’s face was flushed, but you don’t think it was because of the heat. His brilliant blue eyes were bright with excitement, and he chewed his lip nervously as he felt in his pocket.

Steve took your hand and you both walked out into the woods, the conversation light and superficial. He led you along a well-traveled path to a little clearing you both liked to visit. The meadow was especially pretty in the winter, a small cluster of evergreen trees ringing the edges.

You felt a little bad, knowing what you did, but he was so adorable you let him be. You wanted to let him have his moment, with all its breathless anticipation.

But when it came right down to the moment, it was your breath that was taken away.

Steve had decorated each and every one of the evergreen trees. White twinkle lights blinked softly, visible now that the sun had set. Mouth open, you walked into the clearing. He had hung honest-to-god strands of cranberries and popcorn from each branch, and cardinals and chickadees hopped merrily from tree to tree.

Mittened hands covered your mouth in surprise and you felt your eyes start to burn. It was like something out of a Disney cartoon. It must have taken Steve _hours_.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Strong arms you knew so well, wrapping around your waist. Holding you steady as you felt your knees weaken. Steve pulled you back into his chest and kissed your neck, the feather-light touch of his lips making your eyes flutter closed.

He took you by the hand and led you into the clearing. A tree stump had been placed right in the center, and he gestured for you to sit. Steve stood for a moment, and you marveled how the light caught his skin and his hair, bringing out the amber in his golden locks and the stars in his eyes.

Another kiss, even softer, to your lips. You hummed in pleasure and smiled up at him. Steve’s face was radiant with love, and he wasn’t nervous at all any more. You realized you’d forgotten to block him, so he was currently feeling the overwhelming strength of your emotions.

You weren’t nervous either, anymore.

Steve got down on one knee in front of you, and your heart was practically thrumming with excitement and love for him. The man who had saved you, pulling you back from the brink and breathing color back into your life. You truly loved him with all your heart.

“Y/N,” he said, taking your hand in both of his, “I’m pretty sure I’m not nearly as subtle as I think I am, and I have a feeling you’ve a pretty good idea of what I’m about to say.”

You laughed, bringing your other hand up to cover his.

Steve smiled, his eyes dancing. “I know this is not how our lives were supposed to go. After everything we’ve gone through, I considered it enough just to be able to call you my friend. I never expected to fall in love with you.”

He paused for a moment, and when he looked up his eyes were depthless with vulnerability.

“But I have. My heart has been yours for a very long time, Y/N, and I couldn’t imagine life without you now. My world begins and ends in your smile, your arms. You held me up when I was drowning, you taught me how to live. I love you so very much, Y/N, and I can’t imagine living without you now.”

Steve reached in his pocket and pulled something out, but he kept it fisted in his hands.

“Y/N, I never want to spend a single day away from you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, because you already give me everything I could ever hope for. I want to build a life together, _our_ life—if that’s what you want. It’s something I’ve thought about for a long time, and I hope it’s something you’d want to share with me. Because above all, I want you to be happy. Truly happy.”

Steve opened his palm and held up a ring.

It was exquisitely beautiful. Two diamonds, surrounded by a ring of smaller diamonds, set in white gold. It was perfect, and beautiful in its simplicity, just like the man that was offering it to you.

“Y/N?” His hand tightened around yours. “Will you marry me?”

All of your abilities as an empath couldn’t have prepared you for the emotions just hearing those words from him evoked. You choked back a sob and pressed your hand to your mouth. Steve’s eyes went wide in alarm for just a moment before he was nearly bowled over backwards as you launched yourself into his arms.

He sat down hard as your kissed him, tying to convey everything you didn’t have words for. You broke away after a moment and nodded, pressing your forehead to his.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you. I love you so much, Steve.”

Steve huffed and wrapped his arms around you, nearly cutting off your breath with his intensity. He peppered your face with kisses before settling on your lips, a sweet and loving kiss with a scorching undertone that curled your toes.

Neither of you could stop grinning as he slipped the ring on your finger. You admired it for a moment before Steve took your hand, placing a gentle kiss to your ring finger.

The sun was completely gone now, the meadow bathed in twilight and twinkle lights. But nothing shone brighter than the two souls sitting in the middle, wet snow soaking through their clothes as they kissed beneath the stars.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, Fluff
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We’ve made it to the five year mark...bring on the angst! (Sorry!)

**Five Years After the Snap**

“Oh, Y/N, it looks _beautiful_!” Pepper said, fingering the beading on the bodice of the wedding dress. “I can’t believe what a good job they did—it fits you like a glove!”

April. Four months after Steve asked you to marry him, and two months until the big day. You were visiting Pepper and Tony for a bit while Steve went in to the Compound for the yearly status meeting. Steve understood your reluctance to visit the Compound—it held too many memories for you.

Instead, you were taking some time to finalize of some wedding details with your bridesmaid, Pepper. Nat, of course, was your maid of honor, and Steve had chosen Rhodey and Tom to fill out the bridal party.

There wasn’t much left, to be honest. It was a small wedding, and all the little pieces had been falling into place like clockwork. Another sign that it was meant to be.

A small church service, to be followed by an outdoor reception at a nearby lodge on the lake. Catered, but served buffet-style. Low stress, laid back. A live band playing the “oldies” you both loved, plenty of dancing, and fireworks over the lake.

Even finding your dress had been easy. As soon as you put it on, you knew it had been the one, and now, after a few alterations, it was simply perfect.

You squealed and flapped your hands, a gesture wholly unlike you. Pepper grinned and squealed back, hugging you tightly.

“I’m so happy for you, sweetie. You two deserve every happiness.”

A knock at the door.

“You ladies descent?”

“Yes, but—"

The door was already opening, and Pepper screeched. “Tony! You can’t come in, you can’t see the bride before the wedding day!”

“Aww c’mon, Pep, I wanna see—just a little peek? Steve’s the one marrying her, not me.”

“No!” you both shouted together.

“Tony, get out! Go get Morgan, it’s time for lunch.”

“Okay…Y/N, you look lovely, by the way.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “You can’t even see her, Tony.”

“Yes I can, there’s a mirror right there.”

Both your heads swung just in time to see Tony wiggling his fingers in the floor-length mirror and grinning as the door swung shut.

“Ugh! That man—I swear to god.” Pepper shook her head, and you both dissolved into giggles.

She helped you peel off the dress and carefully hang it up. You checked your phone again, noting the time. Steve was late.

“Steve hasn’t called or texted or anything?” Pepper asked, frowning.

“No. He won’t answer his phone…Nat won’t either.” You worried your lip between your teeth. “You don’t think something’s wrong, do you?”

Pepper shook her head. “Steve would have called if something was wrong. They probably just got caught up in everything, and lost track of time. C’mon, have some lunch, we can go through the flowers again.”

You followed Pepper downstairs and helped her set the table. Morgan was inside, coloring on the floor. Gravel crunched, and both your heads raised.

Nat and Steve got out of the car. They didn’t look happy. The rear door opened, and you almost dropped the plate in your hands.

“Is that… _Scott_?”

It couldn’t be. He was killed in the Snap. He couldn’t be standing there. _He couldn’t._

Steve looked up at the house. His face was carefully blank, and he made no move to come in. Instead, he stood on the porch with Nat and Scott, talking with Tony. Something was wrong.

You reached out in your mind, touching their emotions as you listened to the conversation.

Excitement. Fear. Horror. Anguish.

Hope.

A snort of laughter from Tony. “Yeah…a time heist. Of course.”

His tone was nonchalant, but you felt his fear. Fear of what?

“Why didn’t we think of this before? Oh, because it’s _laughable_. Because it’s a pipe dream.”

“The stones are in the past,” Steve said. “We could go back. We could get them.”

Steve was trying to control himself. You could feel him strongest of all. He was breaking inside, screaming internally, a man being torn in half by his own emotions.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back.”

You were so surprised by the excitement and hope radiating from Nat, that you didn’t even pay attention to what she was saying. It wasn’t until you heard raised voices arguing that the words sunk in.

“Now, we have a chance to bring everyone back, and you’re telling me—"

Bring everyone back.

A chance to bring everyone back.

Bucky.

 _Bucky_.

_Oh my god._

Pepper was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear her. You didn’t even notice the plate had fallen from your hands, shattering as it hit the floor. The emotions in the room, _so strong_ , enveloped you, crushing you beneath their weight. You were spiraling, spiraling…down and down and down, the faces of your two lovers the only thing you could see.

Then darkness.

***

“Tony, I get it. I really do, and I’m happy for you. I am. But this is a second chance.”

Steve had hung back from the others after Tony’s refusal. Nat and Scott were already getting in the car. He knew he had to go talk to Y/N, but he had to try, just one more time.

“I got my second chance right here, Cap,” Tony said, his eyes softening and he hugged his daughter. “And so do you, right in there.”

Steve’s lips tightened. Of course he knew that. It was breaking his heart.

“You think she doesn’t know what’s going on? You think she hasn’t already sensed it?” Tony asked. “You better think long and hard about what you’re proposing, Steve, because it’s gonna hurt her, either way.”

Steve sighed. “I know Tony, and don’t think for a minute that this isn’t killing me. But this is a lot bigger than us—than the concerns of two people. It’s—”

A dish shattered inside the house, and Pepper cried out.

“Pepper?!”

Tony and Steve rushed inside, nearly ripping the screen door off its hinges.

“Y/N!”

She was laying on the floor, pale as death and surrounded by ceramic shards. Pepper’s hands fluttered at her face, and she looked worriedly up at Steve and Tony.

Steve fell to his knees beside her, gently pulling Y/N into his arms. He felt for her pulse, his shoulders slumping in relief—she had just passed out.

“What happened?” Tony asked, crouching down.

“I-I don’t know, one minute we were setting the table, and the next it was like she was in a trance. She…she just blacked out.”

“She heard, didn’t she?” Steve asked quietly. “If she didn’t, then she felt our emotions. It was just too much for her.”

His voice broke on the last word. He should have gone to her first. She shouldn’t have had to find out like that—it was too much of a shock. Steve lifted her in his arms, and Tony led the way down the hall.

“Take the guest room, I’ll be right back. I think I have some smelling salts somewhere around here…”

Steve shook his head. “No, just let her wake up on her own. She…I don’t want to force anything, this is going to be hard enough on her as it is.”

He gently brushed back her hair and felt her forehead. She was a little pale but she was breathing easy, and she looked peaceful enough, considering. Tony didn’t say anything. Steve could feel the weight of his gaze on him, but the billionaire just nodded, placing his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezing once before he left, shutting the door behind him.

Steve walked over to the bed on boneless legs and all but collapsed into the chair next to it. He felt like his world was crumbling around him.

They could bring everyone back. There was a _chance_ —and with Tony’s brain, Steve knew it was a pretty good chance. They could undo the Snap.

He could bring Bucky back.

But then he would lose Y/N.

Steve hated himself. He _hated_ himself for even having second thoughts. For wanting to leave it all alone. To be selfish, just for once, and keep Y/N for himself.

But Bucky— _oh god_ , he missed Bucky so much. The pain of losing him was back, just as raw as ever, except now maybe it hurt just a little bit more because he held Bucky’s life in his hands. They all did. They had the power to undo what had been done, and bring everyone back.

Steve knew what needed to be done. It hurt, it was _killing_ him, but it was the right thing to do. He would get his best friend back, but he would lose the love of his life in the process.

He murmured her name, tenderly smoothing the hair back from her face and kissing her forehead. The ring on her finger sparkled at him, taunting him.

_We were going to be married. She said yes. She was going to be my wife…we were going to have a family together…a life together…we were going to…_

_…going to…_

Steve didn’t realize the tears had already started to fall. He stared at Y/N’s still form and wept…for her, for him, and for what might have been.

***

_“I love you too, Y/N. More than you could ever know.”_

_Bucky’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you tightly against his chest. He felt so real, so alive. He was right there. You could hear his heart beating, his skin warm beneath your cheek, the soft timbre of his voice as he spoke, his lips moving against your hair._

_Wakanda. The soft light filtering through the window of the hut, the sweet smell of hay mingling with the scent of the man lying next to you._

_You knew this memory—It was the last time you’d made love. The next time you held Bucky, he would be fading away in your arms._

_“Hey doll…you didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?”_

_When you didn’t respond, Bucky looked down and was surprised to see your eyes clouded with worry._

_“Y/N?” He tilted your face up so you were looking at him. “Honey…what’s wrong?”_

_“I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to fight anymore,” you whispered. “I-I’m afraid if we go back…I almost lost you once, and I’m afraid I’m going to lose you again.”_

_You felt the weight of Bucky’s emotions as they added to your own, and you choked back a sob as they threatened to engulf you._

_“Shh…Y/N, honey. You’re not going to lose me—I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky gripped you tightly and ran his fingers up and down your back, tracing small circles down your spine. He thought again of the ring sitting in the drawer next to him._

_You sighed and rolled over, looking at him. “I’m so happy here, Buck…with you. Everything is so simple here, and we can finally just--we can just be ourselves. No more running. No more fighting. I don’t ever want to leave.”_

_Bucky kissed you gently. “We don’t have to.”_

_“Do you mean that?”_

_“Yes. I don’t want to leave either. I’ve fought enough for two lifetimes, and I’m tired. I’m ready to stay right here.” He gently caressed the side of you face. “With you.”_

Love and heartache.

Emotions swirled around you, yours and not yours.

Steve.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. You were in Tony’s guest room, and Steve was sitting in the chair next to the bed. His face was in his hands.

You closed your eyes again. Your heart was already breaking. You wanted Bucky back. That dead piece of your heart had flared to life again, and you wanted to feel him. You loved him.

But you loved Steve now, too. Just as much. And that was the half of your heart that was currently breaking.

“Steve.”

His head lifted, relief washing over him. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you said, sitting up. He was looking at you carefully, concern written all over his face. You quickly blocked his emotions—you couldn’t handle them right now.

“What happened?”

Steve’s face contorted. “You passed out. Pepper said you were helping her set the table, and you just…”

He trailed off. His eyes still held concern, but Steve seemed hesitant…unsure. You knew why, of course. You remembered the conversation you’d overheard.

“How much did you hear?” he asked.

“Enough.”

Steve sat as still as a statue. You could tell he didn’t know what to do, how to react, or what to say. He was just as torn as you were.

“Come here.”

You scooted back on the bed, holding your arms open to him. Steve crawled over to you, and you could see the dried tear tracks on his face as the light hit them. Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his neck.

Steve froze for just a moment. He let out a shuddering breath and held you tightly, and then—and only then—did you open yourself up to him. Steve gasped and hugged you tighter as you pushed your own emotions back to him, and he nodded.

“I know.”

You lay there for a long time, just holding each other. Steve cradled your head against his chest, and you could hear each heartbeat, keeping time with your own.

“Is it possible?” you asked.

“Yes.”

More silence. Finally, you pulled yourself up, caressing his face as your eyes flicked back and forth between his. Blue with the tiniest hint of green around the pupil.

“I love you, Steve. This doesn’t change that.”

“It doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “How could it? I love you both. Equally. What I feel for you and Bucky can’t be compared…it’s too different.”

“I know.” Steve propped himself up on one arm. “I love you too, Y/N, and I’m not sorry. I’m not ashamed of it—loving you. Even knowing that you still love him, that doesn’t change anything for me.”

He brushed his fingers against your cheek, his expression sad. “So where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.”

And you didn’t. You really didn’t know what would happen, or if what they were suggesting was even possible. All you knew was that you were hurting just as much as Steve was, and right now, you needed him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling at how the light caught it and painting the locks golden. Steve’s eyes drifted closed, and a lone tear escaped. This from the man who used to be wholly incapable of expressing his feelings. He shuddered and nuzzled into your touch.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too, Steve,” you murmured against his cheek. “We’ll…we’ll figure this out. It’s going to be okay.”

But you both knew it wouldn’t—not by a long shot. You both were going to get your hearts broken, one way or another.

Steve’s head turned, seeking your lips. Mouths met and hands roamed, not wantonly but still just as needy, as if you both were afraid each little touch, each kiss might be your last.

You’d never heard the clock ticking down, but time had run out for you both.

The door to the bedroom crashed open, making you both jump. Tony stood there, his eyes wild with that famous Stark gleam, and completely oblivious to the passionate scene that he’d interrupted.

“I solved it.”

“What?” you both croaked.

“Time travel. I solved it.”

You and Steve looked at each other, speechless. Tony smirked and held up his hand, which was encased in a thin metal band.

Steve sat up a little straighter, your hand still firmly grasped in his. “What’s that?”

“A fully functioning, time-space GPS.”

Seeing the looks of confusion, he rolled his eyes. “Without boring you both with a lecture on the complexities of quantum physics, all you need to know is that: _Point A_ , we can successfully go back in time with the Pym Particles, and _Point B_ , now we can navigate where and when…with this.”

“So it’s possible.” It wasn’t a question when Steve said it.

“Not just possible, but probable. Definitely probable. I already called Banner, we’re gonna test it out at the Compound.”

Neither of you said a word, and Tony finally saw the way you were both sitting. His shoulders slumped.

“I know Steve, I know. We’ve all got a lot to lose here, not just me. And although we’ve got a shot of getting these stones, I gotta be honest about my priorities here. Bring back what we lost, I hope, yes. Keep what I found, I have to. At all costs.”

Except it wasn’t that simple for you and Steve. You both would do anything to get Bucky back, and had already committed yourselves to the plan. You had to try. But neither of you knew where that would leave the two of you if it was successful. You took a deep breath and looked up at the two men.

“And…maybe not die trying. That would be nice,” you added.

Resolves were steeled, and you and Steve stood. Tony clapped a hand on both your backs, nodding in agreement.

“Get your shit together, we’re meeting at the Compound in two days.”

Two days.

Two days to decide just what the hell you were both going to do.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, Smut
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

_Sunshine, blue skies, please go away_

_My girl has found another and gone away_

_With her went my future, my life is filled with gloom_

_So day after day I stay locked up in my room_

_I know to you, it might sound strange_

_But I wish it would rain_

That was the song. The song when he first realized he was falling in love with her.

Steve sat in the truck and listened to the radio, and wondered just how the hell it had gotten to this point. Sitting, alone in a pickup truck, listening to an old Motown song and crying like a child. Weeping and pining over Bucky’s girl.

Yeah, he was back on that.

Steve still wasn’t sorry for loving her. He cherished every moment they’d had together, and those were truly some of the best of his life. No, he wasn’t sorry. Maybe if he knew then what he knew now things would have turned out differently, but the fact remained that Steve still loved Y/N with all his heart.

Which was why he was going to let her go.

He couldn’t put a decision like that on her. He wouldn’t. Call him a self-sacrificing dumbass, but Steve knew that choosing would tear her apart, so he would choose for her.

Y/N was Bucky’s girl. She always was. They belonged together.

He knew his decision would hurt her—hell, it felt like he was ripping his own heart out, but he was doing it for her. She’d get over it.

She’d get over him.

Steve had no doubt Y/N loved him, but he just couldn’t believe that she loved both him and Bucky equally. Y/N would be okay. She’d have Bucky back, and everything would be as it was. As it should be. God knows they both deserved it.

The only question now, was deciding what the hell he was going to do after.

Steve loved Bucky like a brother, and he would gladly lay down his own life to get his friend back. He chuckled darkly, wiping at his tear-stained face.

_It would almost be easier that way, wouldn’t it?_

The selfish part of him wanted to keep both Bucky and Y/N for himself, but he couldn’t see how. It would hurt Y/N too much to try to maintain a friendship with a former lover, and Bucky…how could he bear to look his friend in the face knowing how intimate the two of them had been.

And Steve? He didn’t think he could bear to watch his heart being held by another.

It would be easier on them if he just wasn’t around anymore. Steve was tired. This was his last fight. He was done wearing the mantle of Captain America, done with the fighting. He was ready to settle down, only it wasn’t going to be with Y/N anymore.

He stared at his phone. He’d just gotten a phone call from Tony, who’d unwittingly handed Steve his answer.

The test had been a success. Scott had successfully navigated backwards and forwards in time, and everyone was gathering at the Compound tomorrow. They had enough Pym Particles to gather the stones, and enough to put them back.

Enough to send him back in time, if he took one of the stones back.

Enough to send him back to Peggy.

That’s what he’d do. He’d go back to Peggy. It’s what he always wanted, right? Peggy had always been the one, the girl he’d left behind. A missed opportunity, and now a second chance was staring him in the face.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut against a fresh wave of tears.

It really would be for the best. Bucky would have his Y/N back, and Steve would have Peggy. It was as it should be. This way, everyone would be happy.

Right?

Steve scrubbed at his face. Time to man up. They still had some things to do before they left tomorrow, and he needed to check on Y/N to see how she was doing.

When he left her, she’d been up in their room, paging through Bucky’s old photo album. Steve didn’t need to be an empath to pick up on the war of emotions that was currently brewing in that little room, so he’d gone out to the truck to wage his own war. Y/N didn’t need him bleeding his feelings all over her.

She was still sitting there when he reached the top of the stairs. Her face was dry of tears, but he could still see their tracks, and her eyes were red.

“Steve.”

He leaned in the doorway. “Hey. How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay, I guess,” she hiccupped. She looked down at the album lying in her lap and traced her fingers lovingly over one of the photographs. It was of Bucky and Steve, taken when they’d first arrived in Wakanda. Bucky’s hair was long, and he still had his beard. 

“I almost forgot how scruffy he looked back then,” she said, smiling softly. “And you…look at this baby face.”

They’d all changed a lot.

Steve smiled sadly as he sat on the bed next to her. Y/N continued to look down at the photograph. He was about to say something, but she grasped his hand and leaned against his shoulder.

“I’m not going to choose, Steve. Not yet.” She shook her head. “I can’t. We—this is a long shot, and if we’re able to pull this off, _that’s_ when we can figure things out. Not now, my heart can’t take it.”

Steve rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Won’t that make it harder?”

He knew it would. Bucky was going to have to be told what they’d done while he was gone, and it was going to hurt him. Yes, they thought he’d been dead. That alone was going to come as quite a shock to him, and then to add all the messy emotions on top of things…

Steve didn’t know what to expect, but he didn’t think Bucky was going to take it very well.

Y/N was staring at him. By the look on her face, she knew he’d already decided. Steve felt her mind lightly brush his, taking in his emotions. Her jaw clenched.

“Whatever you’ve decided, I don’t want to know. We…we need to stay focused on this. We can’t let what’s going on between us cloud the mission.”

Steve nodded. She was right. “Okay. We’ll talk about it after.”

There would be no after, though. Steve would say his goodbyes, then go back to Peggy. It would be better that way, for everyone.

Steve felt her hands brush through his hair, tilting his chin down to her. He hadn’t even realized she’d closed the album and placed it on the nightstand, and now she had turned towards him fully. Her fingers grazed his temples, and he had the feeling she already knew.

Steve couldn’t stop himself. One second he was sitting there, and the next his mouth was against hers, their lips meeting with an unprecedented hunger. Y/N whimpered at the force of his passion, her eyes locking with his as if to ask if he was certain.

Steve answered her with another kiss.

_Please…Y/N…I just want to feel you…just one last time._

Clothing was discarded and Steve drew the blankets over them both, and it was like a spell had been broken. All the frantic, desperate energy had left him. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to savor her, to memorize every inch of her and every sound she made, knowing this would be their last.

Her breath caught as his fingers trailed across her naked skin, touching, caressing. They were artist’s hands, and she was a masterpiece. All the little soft spots, the sensitive spots, her scars and her secrets, all laid out before him.

He traced the lines of her throat, over her collarbone and down between the valley of her breasts where he could feel her heart beating. He kissed her there, and he felt it quicken. Steve moaned as he took her breast in his mouth, rolling his tongue over her hardened nipple and listening to the delicious sounds she made.

Her hands trailed down the hard planes of his back, her nails raising goosebumps on his flesh as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He felt her slick brush against his thigh, and he groaned.

Teeth raked along his exposed throat, nipping and biting. Her breath was warm against his skin, her lips hovering over his pulse point, sucking on the sensitive skin there. Steve shuddered with pleasure. He wanted her to mark him. To make him hers.

Her eyes found his, and Steve felt like he would combust on the spot.

He kissed her hungrily, greedily. He was drowning in the essence of her, and he went gladly. She kissed him back with equal fervor, gasping against his lips. There were tears in her eyes, and it almost halted him.

She knew. She had to.

Steve moaned her name as his own eyes started to burn. She gasped, pressing desperate kisses along his jawline as she guided him to her entrance. Steve pushed inside slowly, his breath shuddering against her lips as they began to move together.

Fire coursed through his veins. They found their rhythm effortlessly, their bodies fitting together as if they were made that way. Her head fell back, and Steve nuzzled into the arch of her neck. His heart was pounding, thudding heavily in his chest as he panted into her throat, his arms reaching around and cradling her against him.

Y/N pushed against him, drawing him deeper inside her as their pace reached a fever pitch. Her hands gripped his shoulders painfully. It was as if she couldn’t get close enough to him.

It was all right, though. He was the moth, and she was the flame he would willingly perish in.

She came with a breathy cry, his name tumbling from her lips as he felt her come undone. Steve followed her over the edge, his vision going dark momentarily as he released inside her.

Her arms wrapped around him. They held each other as they came down, neither wanting to let the other go. Y/N tenderly kissed his forehead, and Steve nearly wept when he felt her push her emotions to him. Cocooning him in her love. It was like a warm blanked had suddenly been draped over his body, taking away all of his pain and heartache.

“I love you, Steve.”

He looked at her, all sadness gone. For now.

“I love you too, Y/N. I always will.”

“Nothing changes,” she said. “Not until it’s over.”

“Okay.”

He wrapped his arms around her and she curled into him, her head directly over his heart. His fingers curled in her hair, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

His heart ached, but his mind was made up, even if hers wasn’t. He knew it was for the best, but he didn’t want to think about it right then.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight…tonight was theirs. Steve closed his eyes and surrendered to her, committing every detail to memory as sleep came for them both.

***

The next morning dawned cold and grey. The truck was packed, the house closed up. They weren’t sure when they’d be back, so they left a set of keys with Tom—the keys, but no explanation. He’d lost a wife in the Snap, and they didn’t want to get his hopes up.

They didn’t speak much.

There wasn’t much to say.

All the turmoil of the previous night had left with the dawn, and their faces were set and determined as they both climbed in the truck. Nothing else mattered now except for the mission.

The house settled into silence as the truck pulled away. In the upstairs bedroom, a set of dog tags still hung from a painting of a young man, but something had been added to the chain. Something that glittered and shined with promise.

An engagement ring.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Angst, Suicidal Thoughts/Actions, PTSD, Death of a Minor Character
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is written a little differently—it’s a series of flashbacks that show the different stages of Y/N’s life with Steve and Bucky as she waits for the team to return with the stone. I played with the MCU timeline a bit to make it work. Bucky comes to Steve at the Tower immediately following CATWS, and reader meets him for the first time a little bit later. Everything else is the same, but Bucky is only in cryo for 6 months in Wakanda instead of 3 years.

**Avengers Compound – Now**

“All right, you heard the man. Stroke those keys, Jolly Green.”

To your left, Banner punched buttons and twisted knobs at the control panel. You weren’t watching him though—your eyes were fixed on Steve’s. He stood in between Tony and Nat on the raised platform and stared back at you. He smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

_I love you, Steve._

You mouthed it to him. Steve’s smile widened a bit, but it looked sad. He didn’t mouth it back.

Banner climbed up on the platform, clapping a hand on your back that nearly knocked you over. He’d showed you just enough about the controls so that you could bring them back if there were any problems. The team settled stood on their marks, waiting. Ready.

Steve had shaved his beard. That alone confirmed the decision you suspected he made last night.

You weren’t sure how, you weren’t sure when, but Steve was giving you up.

“See you in a minute,” Nat said with a little smile.

The platform began to whir, and in a blink, they were gone.

***

**2015 – Avengers Tower**

“What do you want?”

It was asked coldly, tiredly. He stood back in the shadows so you couldn’t see his face, but the emotions were flashing like a neon sign, nonetheless.

You’d always been good like that.

“Sergeant Barnes? I just want to help.”

Your room was next to his. The dark emotions had been bleeding through the walls all night, but you’d resisted the urge to knock on his door. Emotions were a private thing, after all. It wasn’t until you felt them resolve into a black determination that you decided to act.

“No one can help me,” he said softly.

“That’s not true. No one is beyond saving, even you.”

The shadow behind the door raised his chin as if to say he disagreed.

A small patch of light, maybe from the window, landed across his eyes. They were cold and empty and sadly beautiful. They were the eyes of a man who believed he was far beyond redemption, a man who was incredibly tired of the burden he carried. Yet way, way down in the depths, you could also see the plea for help.

Very faint.

You were afraid. Not afraid of him, no. You were afraid for him. You’d felt the cataclysm of emotions tearing darkly through that room, and when you knocked on the door, you had heard the distinct sound of a gun being set down on a hard surface. You could almost see him sitting there, looking down the barrel.

He stared you down, waiting for you to break and run. Everyone did, he thought, everyone except Steve, but Steve was an idiot. You held your ground though, too, staring right back at him. Neither of you bending, neither breaking. It seemed as if the two of you were destined to stay like that until the end of time, until you decided to push.

“Let me help.”

Barnes stepped back, and let you pass.

Your eyes had grown accustomed to the dark by then, and you could make out the room’s sparse furnishings. Sure enough, the shadow of a handgun glinted coldly from the table.

You were very careful not to look at it as you slowly turned to face him.

You sat down on the floor and crossed your legs. Patted the floor in front of you and inclined your head—you got the impression he wasn’t much for talking. Barnes stood motionless for a second before sitting where you indicated. He moved slowly, cautiously, his head down and his eyes never wavering from yours, his body language and his emotions both betraying his wariness as he sat down.

Scooting forward until your knees were almost touching, you rested your hands on your knees, palms up. “Give me your hands.”

His hands hovered, uncertain. “What are you going to do?”

“Ease the pain.”

The hands hovered for a few moments more, before he lightly rested them in yours. One was surprisingly warm and soft, and the other cold, but you held them with equal firmness as if there were no difference.

“Close your eyes, and breathe deeply. Don’t be afraid.” His brow furrowed, but he did as you asked.

_Pain. Blindingly white. Overwhelming pain, both of the body and of the soul. You could feel it ripping through your body, radiating from your left shoulder. It tore through your chest and up your neck until you felt like your head was going to explode._

_Anger. A thunderous orange, flashing through your veins and boiling your blood. It ripped at you. Changed you._

_Fear. Pale, sickly green and stifling, choking you until you could barely breathe._

_Horror. This one was dark red. Crimson leaching across your vision, corrupting everything._

_Sorrow. A deep, deep indigo. A loss that ran so deeply that you felt like your heart was split in two._

Barnes gasped and choked. His fingers clenched around yours, and you heard him sob. You weren’t taking his pain away, you were helping him bear it. Helping him shoulder the burden as his knees started to shake and he felt as if the weight would crush him.

You could take it away if you wanted, but that would have been like trying to put a band aid on a mortal wound. These emotions always had a way of seeping past the edges.

Gradually, his breathing evened out as the load balanced. Now, you pushed. Bright yellows and pinks and baby blues, surrounding him in warmth and love. Happiness. Concern. Pride. But most of all, _most of all_ …you surrounded him with love, cocooning and cradling him with it.

Barnes exhaled sharply, and you thought you heard the huff of a laugh. That was the way it worked with you—you never got the specifics, the other person would always fill the gaps with their own memories, validating the emotions and making them theirs.

Making them last.

You opened your eyes, and Barnes was staring at you. His face was wet and his eyes red, but they were clear, breathtakingly blue and staring at you in amazement.

“Wh-what…how did you do that?”

“I’m an empath. I can feel emotions and alter them. Kind of a push and pull.”

Barnes frowned. “So you could feel all of that? You saw, when…when I…”

“It’s not a vision, I’m not reading your mind. But yes, I could feel it all. I’m sorry that you had to endure that.”

“It didn’t scare you?”

You smiled gently. “Of course it did. It made me angry and sad, and it hurt—but those things need to be felt. They need to be experienced. Sometimes we just need a little help to shoulder the burden.”

Silence stretched between you as Barnes considered your words.

“Y/N?” He shifted uncomfortably. “Why did you come over here? Why did you help me? You didn’t have to.”

“No, but I wanted to. I did it because I could, and I did it because you deserved it.” You looked over at the gun that was still sitting on the table. “I did it to save your life.”

He looked down, ashamed, but you gripped his hand tighter. “Don’t.”

Barnes thoughtfully rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Do you feel better?” you asked.

He laughed softly, and it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. “Yes. I—it’s still there, but it’s less now…something I can handle. I feel like I can breathe again. Thank you, Y/N.”

Barnes stood and helped you to your feet. He ran his hand through his hair, and you could feel the shy awkwardness as he looked at you from under those long eyelashes.

“Do you…Do you want to go get a cup of coffee with me? It’s the least I can do…”

You smiled. “I’d like that, Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he said, returning the smile. “Call me Bucky.”

***

**2019 – Berwick, Maine**

“I should probably be headed back soon.”

Steve spoke quietly, as if he was unsure of the words themselves. And you both knew it wasn’t true—there wasn’t anything left for you back there. Nothing that couldn’t be handled just as well from Berwick, Maine.

It had been two weeks since you first set foot in the tiny house on the lake, but it had only taken you two days to understand that you could never come back. Bucky was everywhere back there, around every corner, in every room. Here, he only lived in your heart, and he only haunted you when you closed your eyes. Both you and Steve were very careful not to do anything that might dredge up his memory.

Except talk. You did quite a lot of that, those two weeks. And cry—both of you. Talking was safe. Talking was controlled, and there was someone else to lean on.

“All right.”

You kept your voice carefully neutral. The truth was, you didn’t want Steve to go. His presence was comfortable and soothing to you now. You’d come to depend upon the routine of him. And…it was nice to breathe the same air as someone else.

You were just a little bit afraid of being alone.

Left alone with only the ghosts.

But you didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to be a burden—you already felt as if you’d been enough of one to him.

_Is this what Bucky felt like when he first came back? Is this what he felt like those first few years we were together?_

The thought broke your heart.

Steve shifted on the pier, kicking absently at the water. “Or…I could stay a little bit? There’s…there’s a lot of things that need fixing up on this old place, and if you’re buying it…”

“…I’m not very handy. I could always watch YouTube videos and figure it out, though…”

“I’m sure you could, but what if you get hurt? What if…”

_What if you need someone again and there’s no one there? What if you fall into that deep dark hole like before and there’s no one to pull you out?_

“Tom’s right next door, he seems nice.”

“He’s almost seventy.”

“You’re almost a hundred.”

That got him smiling. It got you both smiling.

“Or…you could stay…only if you wanted….”

Steve smiled wider. “I’d like that. Just for a little while.”

You nodded, looking out over the water. Steve watched you for a moment, and then followed your gaze. You both stared at the ripples on the lake, your hands inching towards each other until they rested palm to palm, fingers intertwined.

***

**2016 – Avengers Tower**

Bucky snapped awake, gasping. He was drenched in a cold sweat, limbs bonelessly shaking. He rolled to his side and tried to calm himself down, to control his breathing and quiet his body, but it was too late. He felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Gentle lips against the soft spot behind his ear, and he let out a little mewl that made him cringe, hearing how weak he sounded.

Still, he rolled over to face you. His face was slick with tears. He didn’t wipe them away, though—he just curled into your side and let you hold him.

It had taken a long time, but Bucky was no longer afraid to show you his weakness. It had taken a long time, but he no longer shrank from your touch.

In fact, he craved it.

You smoothed his hair back, carding your fingers through his long, chestnut locks. “Will you let me help?”

“Yes.” The word was barely breathed.

After, once the load had been balanced, you curled into his arms. Bucky kissed the top of your head.

“Y/N?”

You hummed, the warmth of his skin against your cheek making you sleepy.

“Why do you keep helping me?”

You knew what he was asking. You shared his bed, you shared his burdens. You’d both opened yourselves completely to each other, stripping yourselves down to the raw, human emotions that were left behind when all of the masks were lifted away.

But he was still afraid to tell you. He didn’t feel like he deserved any of it.

You looked up at him, tilting his chin down so you could look into the fractured depths of his crystalline eyes.

“Because I love you, James.”

A huff, and he blinked rapidly.

“I love you,” you repeated, and kissed his slack lips. You didn’t care if you heard it back. You loved him and you would do anything for him, and now he knew.

You smiled faintly and started to lay your head back down, but he caught your jaw, tenderly lifting it back up.

“I love you too, Y/N. Forever and always, I love you.”

***

**2022 – Berwick, Maine**

“Where do you think we go after this?”

Steve paused in his work, his pencil hovering over the paper. You were sitting on the porch, your book forgotten in your lap. He had been drawing you.

A thoughtful stroke on the paper. Contemplating. Another stroke, capturing the arch of your brow.

“I’d like to think that…wherever it is…we get to be with the people we’ve lost. Fights are forgiven. Old friends, old loves…”

Another stroke on the paper.

“…are reunited. I’d like to think that it feels like coming home.”

You’d like to think that too. But what you really thought, what you feared, is that it was nothing. Nothing at all.

Steve was watching you closely. “I like to think he’s happy, Y/N. That he’s looking down on us, and _he’s happy for us_ , because he knows he’ll see us again.”

“I’d like to think that too. Because…because…”

Steve set his sketchbook down. He drew you into his lap, and you curled against the broad expanse of his chest, savoring his warmth.

“…I want more. With you.”

Beneath your cheek, you could feel his heartrate pick up. “More?”

“More. I don’t…I don’t ever want you to leave me. I want to have a life with you, a _family_ ,” Steve blushed at that, “I want everything. I love you, Steve.”

He rubbed his nose along your jaw, and you felt him shudder.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

***

**2017 - Wakanda**

“Please don’t cry, Y/N. It’s for the best. I can’t trust my own mind right now, and I…I can’t take the risk of hurting anyone else.”

“I know, Buck. And I’m not crying.”

Bucky was sitting on the exam table, looking over at you as the technician finished placing the IV in his hand. He was calm—serene even—and he smiled at you.

“You’re about to, I can feel it. I’ve been around you far too long not to be able to sense your emotions as well.” He tilted your chin up, swiping his thumb affectionately across your bottom lip.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said.

Soft lips brushed against yours, and you leaned into the kiss. Bucky sighed and pressed his forehead to yours.

“It won’t be forever, and you have Steve and Nat.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he kissed you silent. “And then, after, we can get on with our lives. Settle down, start a family…just like we talked about.”

You nodded, eyes flicking back and forth between his. He traced the lines of your face, memorizing it, and a lone tear spilled over onto your cheek. Bucky tenderly brushed it away.

“Let me help,” he whispered. “Give some of it to me.”

You were still for a moment, and then closed your eyes. You pushed your emotions out to him—everything. All the fear and sadness and worry, the bittersweet heartache and the love. Most of all the love. Bucky gasped like he always did when it hit him, and his lips flitted up into a smile.

A smile, because he was able to help you, to help ease _your_ burden, and in that moment he could feel every once of raw love you felt for him.

The smile was still faint on his lips as he went under. You watched from across the room, blinking back tears as Steve slid an awkward arm around your shoulders.

***

**2023 – Berwick, Maine**

“Whatever you’ve decided, I don’t want to know. We…we need to stay focused on this. We can’t let what’s going on between us cloud the mission.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk about it after.”

So you’d made love. It was clawing and desperate. It was final.

Steve wasn’t nearly as good about hiding his emotions as he thought. He was going to give you up. He’d already decided, and it was breaking both your hearts.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too, Y/N. I always will.”

“Nothing changes,” you said. “Not until it’s over.”

“Okay.”

***

**Now**

Your hand gripped the console’s handrail until your knuckles turned white.

Everything had changed.

Nothing was going to be okay.

Not now, not ever.

Bucky wasn’t dead.

_Bucky. Steve._ _I love them both, I love them both! Don’t make me choose. Please…why…don’t make me choose…_

You felt like you were being torn in two.

A great whirling from the platform as it spun, electricity crackling. One by one, the team winked into view, and you stared wide-eyed as your own problems were forgotten.

“Did we get them all?”

“Are you telling me this actually worked?”

Then you felt it.

The pain.

Nat.

_Oh, god._

“Clint, where’s Nat?” Banner was staring at him, but Clint stared forward with unseeing eyes.

You caught him before he could fall, feeling the hopeless despair and devastating loss oozing from him like blood from a wound. Clint sobbed into your shoulder, and you caught Steve’s eye.

“She’s gone.”

Already, the price of taking back the Snap had come at a heavy cost.

***

“Do we know if she had family?”

“Yeah. Us,” Steve said quietly.

It was a testament to how much he was hurting that Steve allowed himself the comfort of putting his arm around Y/N. Nat had been her best friend, and he knew she had to be devastated.

Y/N had been strangely quiet. Steve couldn’t read anything from her, but he could feel her reaching. Processing. Taking in all of _their_ emotions.

“What?” Thor swung towards Tony, looking confused.

“I just asked him a question—”

“You’re acting like she’s dead—why are we acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right?” Thor paused, looking wild-eyed at the group. “As long as we have the stones, we can bring her back—Cap, isn’t that right? _So stop this shit_. We’re the Avengers. Get it together.”

“Can’t get her back.” Clint’s voice was like gravel. “Can’t be undone. It can’t.”

Thor laughed. “Look, I’m sorry…no offense, but you’re a very earthly being, okay? And were talking about space magic. And can’t seems very definitive, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, look, I know I’m way outside my paygrade here, but she still isn’t here, is she?”

“No, that’s not my point—”

“It can’t be undone. Or, that’s at least what the…red…floating guy had to say.” Clint was breaking down now. Angry. Bitter. “Maybe you want to go talk to him, okay? Go grab your hammer, and _you_ fly and _you_ talk to him!”

Voices raised. Tempers flared, and Steve didn’t have to be an empath to sense that the loss was tearing them apart.

Then, the voices started to quiet. The pain wasn’t gone, but there was a layer of warmth, wrapping around them. Binding them together. Making them stronger.

It was Y/N. She sat beneath his arm, her eyes closed in concentration as she helped balance the pain. Steve found himself smiling, remembering his fondest moments with Nat. Her fierce determination, her unwavering pride in her friends. In _them_.

His head raised, and he looked around at the faces of his friends. Tears were brushed away, and shoulders squared. Nat’s loss was still felt, but it was strengthening them.

Y/N opened her eyes.

“She’s not coming back,” she said. “We have to make it worth it. _We have to._ ”

She looked up at Steve and took his hand. Once again, lifting him up and making him stronger. Steve squeezed her hand, and nodded.

“We will.”

***

**Six Hours Later**

They were losing.

The mad Titan was back. The ships had landed, the Chitauri swarming. Weapons and vehicles, even more colossal and horrifying than before.

They’d reversed the Snap, but they were still alone.

Steve gasped as he drew himself up on his feet. His hands shook as he tightened the straps of the shield against his arm with a grunt, clenching his teeth as they bit into the partially-healed gash across his forearm. Thanos’ lips curled into a sneer.

Steve stumbled, his enhanced strength waning. Movement under his arm, and there was Y/N, steadying him.

Steve felt a bleeding warmth through his veins as she took his pain away. His hopelessness. Instead, she replaced it with determination and grit.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” she spat at the Titan.

Steve grinned. It was as if Bucky himself were speaking from her mouth, and he didn’t think he could love her any more than he did in that one moment.

He didn’t know where the others were, or why they hadn’t come back yet. It didn’t matter, though. This was the last fight, and he was going to wage it with the woman he loved at his side. Steve straightened up, pulling the shield close and gripping Mjolnir.

This.

This was the moment.

“Cap.”

Static in his ear.

“Hey…ap. Can..ou read me?”

Steve’s heart froze. He knew that voice. It…it was—

“Sam?”

Sparks flew in a blinding ring at the top of the hill, whirling, churning. Growing larger. First there was one, than there were two.

Then three.

Through the gap in the sparks, Steve could see shadows moving. Hundreds of them…thousands even. A figure burst through the ring of sparks, wings opened wide in an unmistakable silhouette.

“On your left.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Death (Temporary) of a Major Character, Angst
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**Five Years Ago**

Snap.

A bright light shot through the trees as Thor let out an anguished yell, and Steve, Bucky, and Y/N were blown off their feet by the force of the blast. Bucky picked himself back up, looking around frantically for his girl. He spotted her rising up next to Steve, and he huffed a relieved breath as he went to her.

He stumbled. Something was off.

Bucky suddenly didn’t feel very good—not at all. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A sudden wave of vertigo hit him, and he swayed. It felt like he was falling apart at the seams. He held a shaking hand in front of his eyes, blinking in confusion as the limb fragmented and crumbled.

It was disintegrating. _He_ was disintegrating.

_What…what’s happening to me?_

“Y/N?” His voice was unsteady.

Bucky reached out to her, and she gasped as his outstretched hand crumbled away, turning to ash blown away in the wind.

_Dying…I’m dying…Y/N, please…no…_

Eyes flicking up to Steve in horror, he collapsed forward as his legs blew away to dust.

_Remember your promise Steve…remember…_

“No!” Y/N cried out and fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around him as he faded from her grasp. His eyes sought hers as he spoke desperately, choking, trying to get the words out one last time.

“Y/N…I…I love…”

The world crumbled away into darkness, and there was nothing.

***

Bucky gasped awake.

He lay there for a moment, blinking in confusion because the sky was red.

And because he was wet.

Slowly, he sat up. He was lying at the edge of a large pool of water, his head resting on a mound of sand. Clouds gathered overhead, but the sky looked strange. Foreign.

A large planet was edged in crimson light, rays of sinister orange licking out from its edge like an eclipse. Purple clouds hung low. There was no breeze to speak of, and the earth smelled faintly of sulfur as he rubbed it between his fingers.

_Fingers that disintegrated, blowing away to ash. Coming apart at the seams…_

Dead.

He was dead.

Gingerly, he touched his forehead. The bloody gash was gone. Now that he thought about it, the pain from the battle was gone as well. He was still breathing, his heart was still beating, so he still had at least some form of corporeal existence, but…where was he?

Heaven?

Hell?

Some form of limbo?

His boot kicked against something. His rifle. Well, if he had that, then he should have—

_The ring!_

Frantically, he tore through his jacket.

_Where is it? Where is it, I put it right—_

There. Bucky held it in his fingers, observing the crimson light reflect in its facets as he held a trembling hand to his mouth.

_Y/N…oh, god. I’m dead. She’s all alone…_

Bucky curled up in the sand and wept.

***

It could have been minutes later, it could have been hours.

It felt like longer.

Bucky stared at the ripples on the pond. There wasn’t a breeze to make them, but the earth was strange here, a low, steady rumbling from deep underground. It made him uneasy.

He sniffed and wiped his face. It felt disgusting. Dirt and salty dried tears…probably some snot, too.

Blech.

He dipped a hand into the pond and splashed some water on his face. He had decided he was in some sort of limbo. It wasn’t nice enough to be heaven, and it definitely wasn’t hell. Maybe his good deeds had been just enough to outweigh the bad ones and land him here.

_What the hell do I do now?_

He was utterly alone, and as far as he could tell he had no bodily needs, other than to keep from going insane…which was a distinct possibility.

One thing was for sure, he was tired of sitting here. He couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N and Steve, and he was sinking steadily into a black depression.

He looked around. There was a large mountain in the distance. Maybe he should hike to it and see what everything looked like from over there. Maybe there was someone else over there.

He doubted it, though.

Bucky started walking. The land was mostly flat, and the walking was easy. Occasionally he had to skirt another pond, but that was about it.

Bucky passed his seventh pond before he realized it was the same one.

He wasn’t actually getting any closer to that damn mountain.

He kicked a rock in frustration. Maybe this was hell, after all.

Bucky walked over to the water’s edge. Yep—sure enough, there was the indentation where he’d sat.

_Fuck._

He sat back down and balanced his rifle on his knees. Pulled the ring out of his pocket. He slipped it on his pinky finger up to the second knuckle and pressed his lips to it, feeling the sharp, smooth edges against his skin as he stared out over the water, lost in his own head.

He wondered what Y/N was doing. Was she okay? She’d been hurt…

He didn’t think her or Steve had been taken in the Snap, they hadn’t disintegrated. Just him. Bucky understood what had happened now, and he wondered who else had been taken.

He supposed the battle was over, now. He could see it clearly as if he was there—the losers, their ranks decimated by the mad Titan. Stumbling, shell-shocked, wounded and mourning.

How many others?

He knew the answer to that.

Half.

He hoped Steve had remembered his promise to take care of Y/N, because he could imagine what she was going through right now, and it made him sick to his stomach to think of her in that much pain.

There wasn’t even a body for them to bury.

His heart ached for her. Her pain was palpable to him.

Yes, this was hell. Sitting here, helpless and tormented with the imagined grief of the woman he loved…this was hell.

Bucky sat there and stared out over the pond, thinking of everything and nothing. Worrying the ring on his finger, pressing it to his lips. He had no idea how much time had passed, the sky never changed.

He heard a sizzling behind him. It reminded him of the sound of the sparklers he and Steve used to light as a kid on the forth of July.

He turned.

A great circle ringed in sparks had opened in midair, and there was a man in a red cape walking out of it.

“Sergeant Barnes?

Bucky cautiously rose to his feet. “That’s me.”

The man smiled grimly. “I’m Doctor Steven Strange, and I need you to come with me.”

“Where?”

“You’re needed back on earth. It’s time.”

_But I’m dead._

“T-Time for what? I thought I was—”

“Dead? You are.”

“So…where am I now?”

Strange sighed as if this was a conversation he’d already had, many times over. “The Soul Dimension. You’re dead. You were dusted in the Snap, but the Avengers have found a way to reverse it.”

Bucky stared. “Reverse it? I can go back?”

“Yes.”

“That was fast.”

Strange paused, and Bucky didn’t like the look on his face at all. “It’s only been five hours for you, Sergeant, but for them…it’s been five years.”

Bucky’s brain vapor-locked. Five years.

_Five years._

It couldn’t be.

Could it?

“Sergeant, we have to hurry,” Strange said gently. “Now that the Snap has been reversed, time has caught up to us. Everyone is assembling on the Immortal Fields to prepare for the final battle.”

Bucky’s head was reeling. “The final battle against who?”

“Thanos. He’s back, and they’re fighting him again.” Strange turned and rotated his arm midair. Another portal was opening.

“They’re losing.”

Before Bucky could ask anything else, the portal opened wider and the words froze in his mouth.

Hundreds— _thousands_ of people. Soldiers marching in formation, chants of _Wakanda Forever_ drifting over the ranks. He saw the Border Tribe, the River Tribe, and of course the Golden tribe, all chanting menacingly in Xhosa, spears raised over their cast shields.

He saw gunships and Asgardians, winged horses and warriors. So many people he didn’t even know, forming ranks and nearly frothing at the mouth with the want for revenge.

It was beautiful.

He saw Wanda and Sam. The latter landed next to him on the hill, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he clapped Bucky on the shoulder. They were going back.

They were going home.

_Five Years._

The words repeated themselves like some sort of crazy mantra in his head, a foreshadowing of things to come.

Bucky headed down the hill as Sam took to the air again, mingling amongst the ranks and finding his place. There was a brief moment of silence as the wizards in front of the group raised their arms and conjured more of the swirling portals, and the army erupted.

_I’m coming, Y/N. I’m coming home to you, sweetheart._

Bucky blinked in shock as he passed through the portal.

They were in the field next to the Compound…only the Compound wasn’t there anymore.

The earth had been dug up. Exploded and scarred. The sky was dark and choked with the smoke and soot from several distant fires, huge craters dotting the landscape. Smoke drifted across the field, and it smelled of copper and gunpowder.

It smelled like death.

_Oh god, what happened here?_

Across the great divide, he saw the Mad Titan. He saw the gunships and the Chitauri, the great revolving tanks and the Leviathans, the Outriders and the Sakaarans. It was really happening, all over again…but Bucky only had eyes for Y/N.

Because there she was.

He reached the crest of the hill and he saw her, standing in the mud and the muck, blood on her face as she held a supporting arm under Steve’s. His shield was broken in two, and it looked like they were barely able to stand.

They both looked up at him and paled, and their mouths tugged up in crooked, disbelieving grins. Y/N mouthed his name.

Bucky ground to a halt, seeing her. He felt like his heart had seized in his chest.

Five years.

It had been five years for her.

She looked exactly the same. Her hair was a little longer, her uniform was different, but she was the same. His Y/N, staring back at him as if she’d seen a ghost. Which, he supposed, she had.

She ran to him, nearly launching him over backwards as she threw herself into his arms, murmuring his name over and over.

God—she even smelled the same. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it had been five years, but when he saw her eyes— _her eyes_ \---he knew.

They were red and wet with tears, but that wasn’t it. They were older, now. They were the eyes of someone who had suffered deeply, and his heart clenched at the thought of what she’d gone through.

Then she was kissing him, her arms wrapped around his neck, and he couldn’t think of anything else. Her tongue pressed against his and he fisted a hand in her hair as he lifted her up, nearly sobbing with relief.

He was alive. He was here, his arms wrapped around his girl— _his Y/N_ —and kissing her like it was the first time, all over again.

One of the passing troops hit his shoulder, and it broke the spell. Y/N pulled back, and Bucky was overwhelmed by the emotions he saw flitting across her eyes.

Love. Sorrow. Relief. Exhaustion. Fear.

Uncertainty?

She turned her head to Steve, who was dazedly watching the army gather around him. Lining up against their foe. She looked back at Bucky, and he nodded.

They’d been given a second chance. All of them.

As much as he wanted to wait, as many things that were left unsaid between them…there was a battle to be won.

The final battle.

Bucky took Y/N’s hand in his, gripping it tightly. He wasn’t going to leave her this time. Hand in hand they strode to the front line, Y/N positioned between the two super soldiers.

Bucky caught Steve’s eye. Steve’s lips twitched in a bittersweet smile, and he nodded.

Then the ranks closed in. Shields were raised, and weapons were readied. Mjolnir flew into Steve’s hand, and he raised it above the broken shield.

“Avengers, assemble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter this time, but the next one should be longer because--FEELINGS


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Heavy Angst, Panic Attack, Depression, Discussion of Past Suicide Attempt
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

Steve sat down heavily, strapping himself in as the Quinjet prepared to take off. Across the aisle from him, Bucky was already seated with his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders protectively.

Today, Steve felt every bit of one hundred years old. He felt it in his bones, in his soul. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the bulkhead—he was just so goddamn _tired_.

The final battle was over. They had won, although it didn’t feel like it.

Tony Stark was dead.

They had brought everyone back, but they’d lost so much in the process. A wife without her husband, and a daughter without her father. Tony had given his life to reverse the Snap, and so had Natasha.

There had been joyous reunions in the wake of the battle, but the celebrations had been subdued. The losses of the day were felt by all, and those who had been dusted in the Snap were still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that five years had passed.

For those who had been left behind it was like coming to the end of a long, hard road, and now, the only thing left to do was to quietly pick up the pieces and head home.

And that’s what they were doing. Clint was dropping everyone off before heading home himself, and they’d all agreed to meet up at Pepper’s for Tony’s funeral in a couple days.

Bucky was coming to Maine with them.

He still didn’t know.

They hadn’t had the chance to tell him yet. It wasn’t really that surprising given the confusion and chaos in the wake of the battle, but it was absolutely _killing_ Steve that he didn’t know yet. There had just been so many people, milling about after the battle, talking and hugging and crying, and now they were all sitting shoulder to shoulder in the back of the packed Quinjet.

Steve had only had a brief moment alone with Y/N after the battle. She was standing there in a daze as Pepper was led away, her arms wrapped around her middle as if she was holding herself together. She was covered in soot and smudges of dirt, and there was blood on the side of her face.

She must have sensed his presence, because her eyes raised and locked with his. Unwavering, she’d turned and walked straight up to him and into his arms, and for a moment Steve allowed himself to forget, holding her tightly as tears threatened.

“Are you okay?” he murmured against her ear.

“No,” she choked. “I’m not okay at all.”

She burrowed her face in his shoulder, and Steve wished he could hold her like that forever.

_Y/N, I love you. I love you and I wish you were mine and I’m sorry…_

Gradually, though, he came to his senses, and he reluctantly released her.

“Where’s Bucky?” he asked.

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “He went to look for some medical supplies. He’s being a mother hen.”

Steve smirked, although it held little humor.

“It’s what he does best,” he admitted, and then his smile fell. “Have you told him yet?”

“No. I haven’t had a chance to.” She gestured vaguely at the milling crowd. “It’s just…I don’t want to do it in front of all these people, and…and…Steve, what if he…”

“Y/N…”

She looked like a woman being torn in two. Steve could see the longing in her eyes as she looked at him, and it hurt. But he’d also seen the look on her face as she ran to Bucky, the love and relief that was there when she kissed him, and whatever had been left of Steve’s heart had crumbled to bits.

_This. This is why I have to leave. I’m just hurting her more._

“I knew it was going to be hard, telling him, but now that he’s here…I’m so scared.”

Steve swallowed thickly. “He’ll understand, Y/N. Do you…do you want me there with you when you tell him?”

“No, I think it would be best if it were just me.” She took his hand, and he died a little bit more seeing the tears in her eyes. “Steve, I miss you. I don’t want—”

“Hey—found some supplies.”

Steve jumped back as if burned, dropping her hand. Bucky was standing right at his elbow, but if he thought anything was wrong, he didn’t show it. Instead, his eyes softened with concern.

“Here, c’mon. Sit down, the both of you, before you fall down.”

Bucky gently tended to their wounds, his voice soft and low as he worked. He seemed to be struggling with something internally, worriedly looking them both over.

“I just…I can’t believe it’s been five years.” Bucky paused, his hands hovering over the cut on Y/N’s forehead, and he saw they were trembling. “It’s…that’s a long time. I’m kinda having trouble wrapping my head around it.”

He looked up at them, as if he could see the time lapse written on their faces. Then Bucky looked dazedly over at the smoldering ruins of the Compound.

“I can’t believe that’s gone, too.” He looked at Y/N, then he frowned as if something had just occurred to him. “Did you stay in Wakanda, or were you living at the Compound?”

She drew a breath, keeping her voice carefully neutral. “Actually, I bought a house, in Maine.”

Bucky brightened. “Where your family used to vacation—you always wanted to go back there.”

“Yeah. Uh, Steve stayed with me—”

“Hey—You guys need a ride? We’re ready to leave.” Clint was calling to them from the open cargo door of the Quinjet.

Steve didn’t know if he was irritated or relieved at the distraction. “Yeah, Clint. We’re coming.”

So now he was sandwiched in the rear of the Quinjet, watching his best friend hold the woman he loved in his arms. The woman they _both_ loved, only Bucky didn’t know it yet.

***

Tom was waiting for you when the Quinjet landed.

They must have heard it fly in low over the trees, because as it touched down in your front yard he emerged from the tree line that skirted the edge, waving. He was hand in hand with a woman, and you realized with a smile that she must be his wife, Edna.

“Steve—look.”

You pointed, and Steve smiled. It was the first time you’d seen a genuine smile on his face since that day at Tony and Pepper’s house, and it hurt.

“Who’s that?” Bucky asked.

“Our—I mean, the neighbor. Y/N’s neighbor, Tom. He lost his wife in the Snap.”

“Oh,” Bucky said quietly. You supposed he was still in shock, because that would be the only explanation as to why he was failing to notice the tension in the air.

And oh boy, was it there.

Bucky took your hand as you stepped off of the jet, and you could feel the waves of anguish rolling off of Steve. It was a different kind of anguish than what you were feeling, though—instead of feeling torn, he just felt hurt.

Steve was going to leave you.

You felt it.

You _knew_ , it, even though he hadn’t said a word, and it was tearing you to pieces.

“Steve! Y/N!”

Your thoughts were interrupted by Tom, who unceremoniously pulled you both into a giant bear hug. There were tears in his eyes as he drew back and gestured the woman forward.

“Steve, Y/N, this is my wife, Edna.” His expression slipped a bit as he noticed who was holding your hand, and his eyes flicked to Steve again before he continued. “And you must be Bucky. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Tom.”

He offered his hand. Bucky barely had a second to grasp it before he was being pulled into a hug as well, and he looked over at you with a confused smile. Tom shook his head as he released Bucky, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“Thank you all. So much. I heard on the news what happened, how you guys fought—just—” he was tearing up again. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing my Edna back, and for keeping an old man sane for all those years.”

The emotions were too much for you. The love and longing from both Steve and Bucky was tearing you apart, and as much as he tried to hide it, you could feel intermittent waves of hurt and jealousy from Steve.

You took a deep breath, and blocked them both. There was no way you were going to be able to get through this while trying to wade through their messy emotions as well.

Tom and Edna chatted with you and Steve for a while, but you drifted apart from the conversation, not really paying attention. Bucky had been silent too, and you looked around for him.

He was standing a little ways away from the group, looking at the cabin. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and you could see the metal plates on his arm shifting slightly in agitation.

The sun was beginning to set over the lake, and the light caught him, bringing out the blue in his eyes and painting his hair a dark auburn. Your heart swelled with love for him, and suddenly, all you wanted was to be in his arms.

He was here—Bucky was really _here_ —standing right in front of you, after all those years.

Bucky smiled sadly, looking down as you took his hand. “It really has been five years, hasn’t it?”

It was finally sinking in for him.

“It’s been a long time, Bucky…I’ve missed you, so, _so much_.”

Bucky tenderly brushed his thumb over your cheekbone. You could feel the love, the longing there, in his touch and in his heart, and the dam within you burst.

“Oh, sweetheart, please don’t cry…shhh, I-I’m here now…”

Bucky held you, cradling your head to his chest as big, silent tears streamed down your face, pooling and creating a wet spot on his shirt. It felt so good to be held by him, to touch him, to be surrounded by his scent and feel the steady beating of his heart, still so familiar to you, even after all those years.

Gradually, you quieted. You felt worn out, tired almost beyond the capacity for rational thought. You’d pushed your abilities as an empath to their limit that day, and you still hadn’t even had a chance to speak with Bucky alone.

You closed your eyes, summoning all the courage and strength you had left.

Bucky looked at you worriedly. “You look exhausted, Y/N. C’mon, lets get you into the house.”

At the mention of the house, you looked around for Steve, but he and your neighbors were nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He said he’s gonna stay with Tom tonight, he wanted to give us some privacy,” Bucky said as he led you up to the house.

His mouth worked silently, and he looked down at you. “I’m…I’m really glad that he could be there for you when I…couldn’t. I’m glad the two of you had each other.”

You closed your eyes in despair. “Bucky, I—”

“I’m so, _so sorry_ I had to leave you alone, Y/N, I hate that—”

“Bucky, please.” The tone of your voice halted him, and he looked at you with concern. “Bucky…there’s something I need to tell you, and it’s…”

God, this was hard. You felt like you were going to throw up.

Bucky guided you to the porch rocker. “What is it? Sweetheart, whatever it is, you can tell me. Please.”

You felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, imagining his reaction to what you were about to say. You shivered, anxiety creeping its icy fingers up your throat and choking the words from you.

“Are you cold? Here, let me get you a blanket—where are they?”

“Hall…Hall closet, t-top of the stairs,” you said, thankful for the reprieve as he went inside to retrieve the blanket.

_Get it together, Y/N, get it together! Just say it. Don’t be a coward, just say it._

You leaned forward, your face in your hands as you tried to collect yourself.

***

Bucky was really worried about her.

He knew a panic attack when he saw it, and Y/N was on the verge of breaking down. Exhaustion and stress from the battle they’d nearly lost, the pain of losing Nat and Tony, feeling everyone else’s emotions and trying to help shoulder their burden…not to mention the shock of seeing him alive after five years.

It was too much.

Bucky wasn’t sure what she had to tell him. He honestly couldn’t even begin to guess. Once the time lapse had begun to sink in, his biggest fear had been that she had moved on—that she’d found someone else and wasn’t his anymore.

But that couldn’t be the case—It couldn’t.

She’d flown into his arms the second she saw him, and the way she kissed him felt like not a single day had gone by. Her smile, the way she looked at him, the way she’d cried in his arms—no. That had been real.

So why did he feel like something terrible was going to happen? Something was off. Something was bothering her, and he couldn’t help the feeling of dread that was beginning to pool in his stomach.

Bucky reached the top of the stairs and looked for the hall closet. It was a cute little house. Cozy. He saw a couple pictures on the wall, mostly of Steve and Y/N.

He frowned as he grabbed a blanket.

Why were there so many pictures of Steve? There were some with Nat and Tony and Rhodey, but…there were more of just the two of them.

With their arms around each other.

The flutters of unease in his stomach grew.

Bucky didn’t mean to snoop. He wanted to get back down to Y/N, to make sure she was all right, but something caught his eye as he turned to head back downstairs.

The door to what looked like the master bedroom was open, and above the nightstand was a picture of him. A painting actually, one he realized had been painted by Steve.

He smiled and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Steve had made it for her and she had hung it by the bed, keeping him close.

She really did still love him.

Something was hanging off the corner of the painting and he unconsciously took a couple steps into the room, trying to see what it was.

Dog tags.

 _His_ dog tags, and attached to the chain was…a ring?

_Wait, that’s impossible, the ring’s right here in my—_

It wasn’t the same ring. Of course it wasn’t.

Ice flooded his veins, and it felt like a lead weight had been dropped in his stomach.

Bucky looked around the room. Two dressers. Two nightstands, her book on one and on the other…Steve’s watch. Bucky would know it anywhere, he’d given it to Steve for his last birthday.

_Steve said he stayed here sometimes._

_They’re just friends, he was just looking out for her._

_Then why are his things in here?_

Bucky turned around, his head spinning. The door to the closet was ajar, something long and white peeking out between the crack.

He couldn’t stop himself.

Bucky opened the closet door the rest of the way, and the earth dropped out from under him.

It was a wedding dress. Beautiful, flowing lace, soft and delicate like her.

Y/N’s wedding dress.

_Steve and Y/N are…_

Bucky’s legs gave out and he collapsed on the bed, staring at the dress in horror. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.

_“Please, Bucky…there’s something I need to tell you, and it’s…”_

Y/N was in love with Steve.

They lived together.

They were engaged.

He was still sitting there, staring blindly at the dress, when he heard footsteps charging up the stairs. They stopped suddenly in the doorway, and he heard a soft intake of breath. He knew who it was without even turning around.

“Is it true?”

“Bucky…”

“Is it true?” he whispered.

Bleakly, he looked up at her. Begging her to tell him it wasn’t true. Begging her to tell him that she was still his and his alone.

“Yes.”

It was only one word, barely breathed, but it hit him like a knife to his heart, ripping him open and sending his world crashing down around him.

His hand clenched into fists, and suddenly the room seemed too small. Not enough air. Or maybe there was too much air, so thick and heavy with tension he felt like he would choke on it.

Bucky had to get out of there.

He couldn’t stand to be there in that room— _THEIR room, where they laid together and made love and planned for a future I’ll never have_ —for one second longer. He couldn’t stand to see the look on her ashen face, fear and anguish written all over it.

He couldn’t stand for her to see just how completely she’d broken his heart.

Bucky numbly walked past her and out of the room, not sparing her another glance. Y/N just stood there in shock and made no move to stop him, and that hurt him most of all.

He didn’t stop until he was out of the house, the screen door banging behind him. He didn’t stop until he was all the way down at the water’s edge, where he gripped at the trunk of a pine tree for support while he was violently sick into the underbrush.

Then the tears came.

Just yesterday, _to him_ , he was planning to propose to her. Now, in the blink of an eye, five years had passed, and not only had she moved on, but she was about to marry his best friend.

Bucky sank to the ground against the tree, covered his head with his arms, and wept.

***

Steve politely declined Tom and Edna’s offer of dinner. There was no way he’d be able to stomach a bite. Tom looked at him sympathetically, and he even sat out with Steve on the front porch for a while, trying to raise his spirits.

That just made Steve feel worse. The man hadn’t seen his wife in five years and here he was, trying to comfort _him._

“Tom, please. Go be with your wife. I’ll be fine out here, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight anyway.”

Tom nodded sadly and walked back inside. Steve was still sitting there, staring morosely out at the water when he heard the screen door of the house slam.

Bucky. Striding angrily—practically running—away from the house.

_Oh, no. She told him. She told him and he left._

He stood, watching the scene. There was no movement from the house, but he saw Bucky stop down by the water, and his enhanced hearing caught the distinct sound of retching.

Steve was torn between wanting to help Bucky and wanting to help Y/N, and in the end, Y/N won. He wasn’t really sure if Bucky would even want to see him right now.

Steve found her curled in the corner of the bedroom. Her hands were pressed to her temples, and she stared blankly at the wedding dress hanging in the closet as silent tears streamed down her face. It took him exactly ten seconds to realize what had happened.

“H-He just left. He just…” she hiccupped, “just asked if it was true, and then he left.”

Steve murmured her name as he pulled her into his arms, where she lay, limply. She probably didn’t have any tears left.

“I hurt him so badly, Steve. I could feel it. The pain, the anger, the disbelief…it was like I could actually see his heart breaking.”

“Shh…it wasn’t your fault. It—”

“Yes it was. Can you imagine—finding out like that? After everything he’s been through? No wonder he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Y/N. He’s in shock.”

“He’s going to leave me. Just like you are.”

Steve clenched his jaw. Of course she knew. “No one is leaving anyone, Y/N,” he said gently as he petted her hair, “not until we get this straightened out.”

It wasn’t a promise, not by a long shot, but he had to calm her down.

“I’m going to go talk to him. Are you going to be okay up here?”

She nodded. Steve bent down and tenderly kissed her temple.

“I love you, Y/N, and I will always love you. Bucky still loves you too. We just all need to process things in our own way. I’ll go talk to him…it’s going to be okay.”

Steve sat there on the edge of the bed, rubbing her back as her eyes grew heavy. She must be exhausted, both mentally an emotionally. He certainly did, so he could only imagine how she felt.

Once she’d drifted of to sleep, he quietly left the house, heading down to the water to look for Bucky. He found him sitting motionless at the water’s edge, the moonlight glinting off his metal arm as he repeatedly broke a stick into smaller and smaller pieces, tossing them into the water.

Bucky must have heard him approach, because he stood as Steve got closer. He didn’t turn around, though.

“Bucky.”

Not a word, but his fists clenched.

“Bucky, I—”

_Wham!_

Bucky caught him across the jaw and Steve’s head snapped back. It was his flesh hand, but it still hurt, and he could taste blood at the corner of his mouth. Steve straightened and raised his hands defensively, palms open as Bucky glowered at him, looking like he wanted to hit him again.

“Ok, I know you’re upset right now—”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to cover it, you—you fucking—”

Bucky was sputtering, nearly shaking with rage, almost unable to form complete sentences.

“Buck—"

“How long did you guys wait, huh? Two months? Six? Did you always have your eye on her? You must’ve, for you to just come up here and shack up together—”

“Bucky, it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah? What was it like, Steve? You tell me what it was like, because to me,” he choked, his mouth working to get the words out, “to me, the only woman I ever truly loved…the one I was going to propose to _yesterday_ …has been fucking my best friend.”

Bucky was in his face now, snarling, his finger pointing and accusatory. Yet Steve could see the intense hurt underneath the flash of anger, and it cut him to the quick. 

Steve shot right back at him. “Go ahead, Buck. Get angry—you can hate me as much as you want, but don’t you _dare_ take it out on her. You have—you have _no idea_ what it was like after you died. What it was like for _her_.”

Bucky rocked back on his heels, his mouth trembling. He was angry, yes. He was already hurting badly, but he needed to hear the whole story, even if it hurt him more. Steve’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he shook his head.

“You know, she didn’t believe it right away. I had to tell her that you…that you were dead, and it broke her. She didn’t say a word for almost nine months…she just sat there lost in her own head, and I thought we were going to lose her. And then, one day…we did.”

Bucky frowned, his eyes darkening in horrified realization.

He shook his head. “No. No, no, she wouldn’t—”

Steve clenched his jaw. “You want to think that your death didn’t affect her? Well you take a good long look at those scars on her wrists, and you think twice.”

“Please…stop.”

Steve was starting to tear up now as he relived the worst night of his life. “I’m the one who found her…laying there in a pool of her own blood, your photograph still clutched in her hand. We…we rushed her to the med center, but she still died on that operating table. They brought her back, but we were almost too late.”

All the anger was gone from Bucky now, and he just stood and stared at Steve, silently pleading for him to stop.

But he couldn’t. Bucky needed to know everything.

“She was so broken by your death that she couldn’t stand to live without you. That’s how much she was hurting. _That’s_ how much she loves you.”

Bucky just closed his eyes and shook his head, whether in denial or disbelief Steve wasn’t sure. He forced him to ignore his friend’s shuddering breaths, and continued.

“I-I didn’t handle things the best in the beginning. I honored my promise to look out for her, but…I was too distant. I didn’t see how much she was hurting. I wanted her to be better again, so much I just ignored all the signs. It was my fault.”

“Steve—”

“Please, let me finish. I want you to know everything.”

Bucky closed his mouth and took a steadying breath.

“When she said she wanted to get away from the Compound, away from the memories, I came with. I was so scared that she’d fall down that hole again, I didn’t want to leave her alone. And as the months and the years wore on, we just sort of…fell into a comfortable routine. Just going through the motions of living, working through the nightmares and the trauma.”

Steve sighed. “Then, after almost three years, it started to become something more. I know this is going to hurt you, Bucky, but I love her. I didn’t want to, and neither did she, but…it just happened.”

Bucky was completely motionless, but he didn’t say anything, so Steve took that as his cue to continue.

“The…the first time we slept together it was almost an accident. Completely unintended. Y/N freaked out so bad she left for almost a month, and when she came back we talked. Talked about you and about us, and in the end we decided to try taking it slow. We dated for a long time—we had our ups and downs, and I didn’t ask her to marry me until last Christmas.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened at that, and he looked dejectedly at the ground.

Steve sighed heavily. “Buck, you’re my best friend, and I love you. I would’ve given anything to have you back, even if it meant giving up the woman I loved. Because it’s always been you for her, Bucky. You’ve always been her first love, and she will always choose you. She _has_ chosen you.”

Bucky’s head raised at that, but he didn’t look comforted by the words. He stared dazedly out at the water, shaking his head slowly.

“Steve…I can’t just…I can’t just ignore what she’s been through, what you two had…what you _have_.” His voice was hoarse, and he choked on the last word.

This time, he didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. Bucky opened and shut his mouth a few more times, but he couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he turned and pulled a very startled Steve into his arms, clutching at him as if he were afraid of crumbling into dust again.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m sorry I hit you. I just…I-I can’t even think straight right now, I…Thank you for taking care of her, Steve. Thank you for saving her.”

Steve held him for a long time. His own head—and his heart—felt like it was about to split in two, and he could only imagine what Bucky felt like. What Y/N felt like.

God, they were a mess.

Finally Bucky sighed and released him. He looked up at the house, and Steve could see the longing in his eyes, mixed with uncertainty and a tinge of fear.

“Go to her, Bucky. She’s waited five years for this. Don’t leave her alone any longer.”

“She’s not. She has you now.”

There wasn’t an edge to his voice when Bucky said the words, just a tired understanding. Steve hated seeing the dejected, defeated look in Bucky’s eyes. He’d never be the same after this—none of them would.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Bucky, right now she needs you. She wants you. Just put everything aside for a minute and be with her, everything else can wait until tomorrow.”

Bucky stared silently at the house, swallowing thickly. He looked back at Steve, and the expression there broke him even further. Steve placed a hand on Bucky shoulder and squeezed, silent words passing between them in the way reserved for lifelong friends.

Finally Bucky nodded, and turned to walk up to the house with a final squeeze of Steve’s hand. Steve watched him go. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel jealous—not at all. He felt sorrow and a deep, raw pain in his heart at the loss he knew he’d suffer soon, but not jealousy.

Slowly, his head down and moving with the speed of the hundred-year-old man he was, Steve turned and walked back to Tom’s.

***

You drifted, in and out. Stuck halfway between asleep and awake, listening to the house creak and settle. Once, you head raised voices outside, but everything was quiet now.

Steve.

Bucky.

You’d poured over and over it all until you couldn’t think anymore and you felt like your head would explode. Now, you just felt tired, but sleep wouldn’t come.

It could have been minutes or hours later, but finally you heard the soft creek of the bedroom door.

Bucky.

You knew him by the way he walked, slow and cautious but with just enough sound to let you know he was there. Slow, hesitant steps took him to the edge of the bed, and you felt it dip as he sat down.

In the darkness you saw him reach a hand out to you. It trembled, and he set it on the bed instead.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left.” His voice was soft and low and dripping with regret.

“I’m sorry too. I hate that you found out like that.”

Your fingers crept along the sheets until they found his, and you took his hand. It was cold.

“Can I…” he cleared his throat. “Can I lay with you? I don’t want to…I just want to hold you.”

“Please,” you said, tears forming again. Apparently you still had some left. You pulled back the sheets as he kicked off his boots and climbed into bed.

Bucky opened his arms and you curled into his side, slotting yourself against his chest. His hands smoothed back your hair and rubbed down your arms, and you felt his lips brush the top of your head. He didn’t kiss you—not tonight. He just rested his cheek against your head and held you tight, and you could feel the tension in his limbs betray the tears he was holding back.

You burrowed your face in his chest, breathing him in and feeling his heartbeat flutter against your cheek.

“I love you, Bucky. I will _always_ love you.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, and you felt wetness slide into your hair.

“I love you too, Y/N. Always.”

Nothing had been solved, but that was a problem for tomorrow. For tonight, this—just holding the man you’d loved and missed for over five long years—was enough.

For tonight, it was enough.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: **18+** Smut, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Polyamorous situation--NOT STUCKY
> 
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, here we go. I’m gonna start off by saying that some of you probably aren’t going to like the ending. But even if you do, please be kind. I’ve changed the ending of this at least three or four times, and the decision to end it this was was not taken lightly. This is the ending I want, and the ending I feel these characters deserve. I really hope you like it, I’m honestly a little nervous about the reaction to the end, but here goes...
> 
> A/N/N: I also added a chapter warning for a polyamorous situation. That being said, this is NOT a STUCKY fic--it’s two men loving the same woman, there is no STUCKY in this fic.

You woke slowly, feeling callused fingers brush gently over your inner wrist, the touch so light you almost couldn’t feel it. The morning had dawned cool and grey, the perfect representation of how you felt inside—how you _all_ felt inside.

Bucky was facing you. He hadn’t noticed you were awake yet. His head was still nestled on the pillow, but he was staring at the long scar on your wrist, his eyes a million miles a way as he brushed over them as if the touch could erase them. Finally he stopped and just laid his hand over the ugly, puckered flesh, closing his eyes wearily.

“Bucky.”

He opened eyes that were swimming with tears. Hesitantly, you reached out with your mind and brushed his.

Deep, dark hues. Indigos swirled with blacks, edged with crimson. Pain and sorrow. Regret.

“I did this to you.”

Words spoken so softly and so bitterly they broke your heart.

“What—no. Bucky, no. It’s not your fault, it’s—”

“But it is. I left you, I just—I should’ve done more than just a fucking letter, I should’ve—”

“Bucky.”

“You almost died. All that pain… _five years_ …” Bucky swallowed thickly and closed his eyes as the first few tears spilled over.

He whimpered as you ran your fingers over his cheeks, wiping away the tears before you carded them through his hair. It was a tried and true soothing mechanism for him.

You’d missed him so much.

You could tell he didn’t want to, that he was trying to hold it back, but Bucky leaned into the familiar touch as the tears came harder and faster. He was hurting so badly, and it was absolutely killing you to feel his guilt and pain.

You settled your hands over his temples, preparing to ease his pain, but he stopped you.

“No. Please, don’t take it away, or else I won’t be able to…to…”

“Bucky, let me help.”

“No. Y/N, I…”

The words died in his throat. You weren’t sure what it was he was trying to say, but he was looking at you with such longing that you felt the love you held for him bubble over.

Bucky gasped when your lips met his. Hands tightened against your shoulders, and he gently but firmly pushed you away.

“I—w-we shouldn’t. I can’t—”

“Please.”

Red-rimmed eyes met yours for a moment, indecision flickering over into want as he moaned and pulled you close.

It was ugly. It was raw. It was desperate and needy, the weight of his mouth heavy against yours as clothes were discarded and bodies pressed together.

There was no ceremony, no foreplay—just a deep and primal need to be close to one another, a bittersweet coupling of two hearts that were breaking.

You’d loved each other, and you’d lost each other. Now you were found, but neither of you knew if the other would stay.

You found your rhythm effortlessly, as if no time had passed at all. Bucky panted against your throat as he moved with you, murmuring your name and clutching at you hard enough to leave bruises.

As if you were turning to ash in his arms.

You were two shooting stars, as timeless as you were inevitable. The fire quickly raged out of control, and you cried out as you both exploded into starlight.

Salt.

Salt was all you could taste as he kissed you, salt from his tears and from your sweat-slicked bodies, hearts thudding together as you both tried to catch your breath. Bucky traced the lines of your face, staring at you as if he were looking for something—maybe the confirmation of the passage of time, maybe for confirmation of the love you had for him, or maybe that wasn’t it at all.

Maybe he was memorizing you. Saying goodbye.

Suddenly you were catapulted back to when you had laid in that very bed as Steve looked at you the same way. Memorized you the same way.

“No. Bucky, no, I can’t—”

He smiled sadly. It was bittersweet and torn at the edges, and you felt the ground drop out from under you.

“I know. I don’t want to let you go but I have to. I want you to be happy, but I can’t just ignore what the last five years have meant to you, even if they were only a blink for me. It’s not fair to you.”

“Fair?”

“Y/N, I will love you until my last breath, but what we had…it’s over. You buried me. You moved on and found someone else to love, and although it hurts…when I sat there writing that letter to you in Wakanda, that’s all I wanted. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Bucky.”

“I hated Steve at first. I was jealous that he got to be with you these last five years, but…I’m not anymore. He’s my best friend, and he saved your life. He comforted you and guided you through a dark time in your life, and I could never resent him for that.”

“Don’t do this.”

“You love Steve. I know it, and…and it hurts but I’ve accepted it. I can’t come between the two of you, I love you both too much to do that.” Bucky sat up and started to pull on his jeans.

Anger flared, red hot.

“Well I haven’t accepted it! I refuse to accept it!”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening at the force of your outburst. In any other situation he’d look comical, his tee shirt halfway over his head and his hair still tousled with sleep, but you couldn’t have felt any further from laughing.

“I am sick and tired of the two of you trying to decide what I want. Steve thinks I don’t know, but he’s already said his goodbyes, and now you are too. You both love me _so much_ you’re willing to let me go, to let the other one have his chance, but you never once stopped to think about what it was doing to me! You say you want me to be happy, but how can I when both halves of my heart are trying to walk away?”

Bucky slowly pulled his shirt down, his cheeks red with shame and hurt.

“Y/N, you…this is the way it has to be. You’re engaged to Steve, and if I hadn’t come back…if I hadn’t ruined everything…” He heatedly scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You have something here. You already have a life here, and there isn’t a place for me anymore.”

“Bucky—”

“I’m not going to be the one to ask you to give this up. I’m not going to ask you to walk away from him. I won’t ask you to choose.”

“Then don’t! I don’t want to choose—I want you both!”

It was a thought that had been rattling around in your mind, and you unconsciously voiced it now, the desperation growing as you felt the two men you loved drifting further and further from you.

Bucky stared at you in shock, and you thought you saw a brief glint of hope flash across his eyes. Then it was gone.

“No. No, Y/N, Steve would never—” he caught himself, clenching his jaw as he tugged on his boots.

You knelt on the floor in front of him, taking both of his hands in yours.

“Bucky, you were taken from me once, and that wasn’t your fault. But this time, you’re _choosing_ to walk away, and I…I can’t take it. Please don’t leave me again. Stay.”

Hands gently pulled from your grasp. “I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

Bucky just looked at you, his expression blank.

A rush of emotions crashed over you. Bucky just sat there as you angrily stood and fled the room, tears streaming down your face. He flinched as the door slammed, and he slowly lowered his head into his hands.

Steve was loading up the truck when you burst out of the front door, and he paused mid-stride.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Confused, you looked between him and the truck.

“What’re you doing?”

“Tony’s funeral. It’s this afternoon, and we’d better leave soon if we’re going to make it in time. I was about to come get you guys.”

How could he stand there and talk to you like everything was normal? That he was just the best friend giving the young couple a ride to a funeral? Bucky may have broken your heart, but he’d already broken the other half.

Slowly, Steve set down what he was carrying. “You’re crying. What happened?”

Something broke within you. In three strides you were there, launching yourself into his arms with a force that drove him back against the truck.

You were a mess. Emotion burst from you and hit Steve like a tidal wave, and you were powerless to stop it. He felt everything, and the cool resolve he’d sworn to adopt slipped.

Strong arms encircled you, drawing you close. So familiar, so comforting—he felt like home.

And then his lips were on yours. Clawing and passionate, as if you couldn’t get close enough to each other. So similar yet so different from Bucky’s kiss. Lips parted and he moaned into your mouth, tightening his grip on your hair as his heart broke even further.

From the window of the kitchen, Bucky stood motionless, watching the scene in the yard unfold. He’d gone after you. He hated how much he was hurting you, but he just didn’t see any other way.

And now…now he saw how much you and Steve loved each other. It hurt—god, did it hurt—but he felt no jealousy. Just a deep and horrible ache in his chest, knowing that he’d lost you forever.

Finally, Steve pulled away. Of course he was the one to do it, because you never would.

He looked at you sadly, his mouth working as he tried to find the words, but they wouldn’t come. Instead, he looked over at the cabin.

“What happened up there?”

Graciously side-stepping the issue. Of course he was.

“Bucky’s leaving me. _You’re_ leaving me. Both of you think you’re doing what’s best, but—”

“What do you mean, he’s leaving?” Steve frowned in alarm.

“He said th-that he’s accepted it’s been five years and there isn’t a place for him here anymore. That he loves us both too much to come between us. He’s giving me up.”

Steve swore. “That selfless idiot. I told him—” He stopped suddenly, bowing his head.

Uneasiness settled again in your stomach. “What— _What_ did you tell him, Steve?”

Steve wouldn’t meet your eye. You reached up and cupped his face, tilting it towards yours.

“Steve?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Steve sighed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You knew that look. It was the “Steven Grant Rogers has made up his mind and refuses to be budged” look.

You hated that look.

Steve screwed his eyes shut as if he were summoning every last ounce of strength.

“Just…let’s just get through this funeral, and then we can all sit down and talk about it. Okay?”

That was a surprise. “Really?”

“Yes. We’ve really should be leaving soon. We can’t miss this.”

Guilt flooded you. “I know.”

“Go get ready, I’ll talk to Bucky.”

You caught his hand as he turned to leave. “Steve, do you mean it? You won’t go?”

And that was when Steve Rogers told his first lie.

“I promise, Y/N. I won’t leave until we’ve talked about it.”

***

The ride up to Pepper’s house was one of the longest of your life. Sandwiched on the bench seat between the two super soldiers, the two loves of your life.

When you’d realized what the seating arrangement would be, you had to stifle a snort of laughter, it was so perfectly ironic. At least something made you laugh—you were so tired of crying all the time.

Bucky hadn’t wanted to come at first. He said Tony wouldn’t have wanted him there, a fact which you both adamantly argued. Finally he gave in, although he refused to borrow one of Steve’s suits.

“I’ll just wear this,” he said, indicating the dark jeans and black leather jacket, “and I’ll lurk in the background. It’s what I do best.”

Steve and Bucky. One was just as stubborn as the other.

Finally you arrived at Peppers house, and although it was a sad occasion, at least it provided relief from your troubles. It had always been easier for you to help others with their emotions rather than dealing with your own, and you were in your element.

The service was beautiful, but bittersweet. After, you found Bucky lurking in the back with Sam, right where he said he’d be.

“Where’s Steve?”

Bucky jerked his head over to where Banner was setting up the Quantum Tunnel.

“He’s getting suited up, I guess. He’s taking the stones back.”

“What—here? Now?”

Bucky shrugged. “I guess they didn’t want to wait, and since everyone’s here together…”

Something about that didn’t sit right with you. Bucky saw your look.

“Doll? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know…”

Bucky frowned, and looked beyond you to where Steve was walking with Sam.

“You know,” Sam said, “if you want, I could come with you.”

“You’re a good man, Sam. This one’s on me, though.”

Steve slowly walked up to you, and the feeling of unease grew. His face was carefully blank, a small smile on his face. Even his eyes were a mask.

As he leaned down to hug you, you brushed his mind, but nothing had changed except an overwhelming feeling of determination. He started to pull away but you cupped his face and pulled him into a long kiss. Steve’s determination flickered, but held.

“You promised. “

“I know. Five seconds.”

“I love you, Steven.”

“I love you too.”

You pulled your jacket tighter around you, stepping back as Steve walked up to Bucky. The two friends looked at each other for a long moment, and then embraced.

“Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.”

Bucky froze at the words, and he frowned.

“How can I? You’re takin’ all the stupid with you.” He said the words slowly, as if something was just beginning to form in his mind.

You took Bucky’s hand as Steve stepped up on the platform, but he didn’t look at you. He was staring at Steve.

Suddenly, his eyes went wide.

“Steve, stop. Banner, stop the machine!”

Bucky took a couple steps towards Banner with his arm held out, and Steve’s shoulders fell.

“Buck, I’ve got to—”

“Just stop for a minute, okay? It’s a time machine, it’ll keep. I need to… _we_ need to…oh, just get down here!”

Not taking his eyes from the two of you, Steve stepped down off the platform and handed the stones to Banner. You were confused.

“Bucky, what—"

He gestured to Steve. “This punk was about to play the goddamn hero again.”

“What?”

Bucky was pissed. “I’ve seen that look in your face before—you weren’t planning on coming back, were you?”

Your jaw dropped and you looked to Steve for a denial, but guilt was written across his face.

“You asshole! You promised!”

Angrily, you shoved him in the chest, hard. Steve barely took a step back, but his face reddened. Behind you, Banner and Sam raised their eyebrows and retreated a few yards.

Bucky crossed his arms is if to say he had a lot of explaining to do. “What was your plan, Steve? Just go back and live at some random time in the past? Just leave Y/N and me behind? Your friends? Your _family_?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “I was…I was gonna go back to be with Peggy.”

That hurt.

Bucky saw the look on your face, and his mouth thinned. “Is that what you really want? To go back to a woman you crushed on decades ago? Who will end up having a good life already with a husband and children? You wanna screw all that up for her? I _know_ you’re not that selfish.”

Bucky squeezed your hand tightly. Steve saw it, and he sighed.

“What am I supposed to do, huh? Just sit here, back in the friend zone and watch you two live your lives together? Find someone else?” He shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’m happy for you, I really am, but I love you, Y/N, and it hurts too much.”

You shook your head. “But I’m not choosing Bucky. I’m not choosing either of you, I—”

“You have to, Y/N.”

“What if she didn’t?” Bucky said quietly.

Silence. Both you and Steve looked at him in surprise, but you had a feeling you knew where he was going with this. It was something you had already considered.

“W-What are you talking about, Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked at you as if for silent confirmation. Hope sprung, and you nodded.

“I was prepared to give her up. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t see any other way. But now that I see the extreme lengths you’ll go to…and what Y/N said earlier about not wanting to choose…”

He took a deep breath. “What if…we could all just live together,” he said carefully. “As a family.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

You squeezed Bucky’s hand with your left, and took Steve’s with your right. “We can live together. I can be with Bucky, but I can be with you, too.”

“Y/N doesn’t have to choose, and we get to keep our best gal and our best friend.” Bucky’s eyes were bright, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of hope there.

“But won’t you get jealous?” Steve asked him.

“Will you?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then shook his head. Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not perfect, I know. We’ll have our ups and downs, but the important part is that we’ll be together. Nobody’s left behind.”

Steve stared from Bucky to you. “Y/N, are you sure? You’d—you’d be okay with this?”

“I already told you, I love you both. Equally. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

“And I don’t want to lose my best friend,” Bucky said. “Not after everything we’ve been through. We said until the end of the line…well, the line doesn’t have to stop here.”

Steve huffed. There were tears in his eyes, but there was also the beginnings of a smile. Bucky released your hand, and you leapt into Steve’s arms.

“Please say yes.”

Steve looked over your head towards Bucky, who nodded, his lips curling into a crooked smile. It would be unconventional, to be sure, but it was truly the only way you’d all be happy.

“Okay.”

You pulled him to you, and Steve smiled against your lips. His arms threatened to crush you, and you could feel the desperate relief as he realized how close he’d come to losing you forever.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll stay. We’ll both stay.”

You felt like your heart would burst. “I love you too, Steve.”

He released you with a smile, and there was no jealousy in his eyes as you went to Bucky, who wrapped you in his arms and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. His eyes closed, and he breathed you in.

A throat cleared. “It looks like you three are having a moment, so I’ll, uh…I’ll just take care of this, okay?”

Sam was standing on the platform and holding up the stones. You all laughed at the break in the emotional tension, and waved him off.

Once he was gone, you took both their hands again. “Hold on, there’s something I want to try.”

Both men watched you in confusion as you closed your eyes. You reached out with your power, pushing your feelings to them, but also drawing theirs into the middle—creating a bridge between the three of you.

Bright yellows and pinks, baby blues and a summery green. Love and friendship, family and a sense of belonging.

When you opened your eyes again, they were both staring at you with adoration.

“There. Now we all know where each other stands. Nothing’s hidden.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, and his eyes sparkled with happiness as he bent down to kiss your cheek. “I think this is gonna work. I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Bucky.”

Steve kissed your other cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He looked over at Bucky. “Thank you for stopping me.”

Bucky shrugged and smiled. “Anytime, punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Let’s stay for a little longer, make sure Pepper has everything she needs, and then…let’s just go home.”

You took each of their hands in yours, these two men who you loved more than life itself. Steve and Bucky.

“Yes. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whelp, there it is. Again, I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted, if you wanted her to choose one over the other, but I honestly couldn’t. Feel free to yell at me in the comments, I just ask that you’re kind. The final chapter will be a look five years into the future, at how things turned out for them. (Spoiler alert, they all get their happily ever after.)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Fluff, Discussion of a difficult pregnancy, polyamorous situation–NOT STUCKY.  
> Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Major Character Death (Temporary), Depression, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Angst, Fluff

**April – Five Years Later**

The first rosy tendrils of dawn were just beginning to creep over the windowsill, bringing a dim glow to the sky that was felt more than seen. It woke you, and you sighed and listened lazily to the birds outside as the world came awake.

Movement in the bed next to you. A soft grumble, and a metal arm snaked around your waist, tugging you closer as a sleepy kiss was pressed to your shoulder. That brief and unconscious display of affection and he was gone, tumbling back down into the depths of a deep and restful sleep.

You smiled and watched him. He looked so peaceful, his face unlined and all the shadows gone. Bucky’s hair was shorter now, even shorter than it had been in the war. There was a little bit of grey at the temples now too, though, something that Steve teased him about to no end.

Then again, Steve had a little bit of grey in his beard as well, and while he loved to tease Bucky about his hair, Bucky never, _ever_ let Steve forget that he was now the older one—by four years.

Scooting closer, you snuggled into the crook of his arm. The sky grew lighter as you lay there, just listening to each slow, steady breath and feeling the heart beating softly underneath your palm.

Even after five years, it was sometimes hard to believe he was real.

Bucky’s fingers lightly grazed down your shoulder, and you realize he was awake. He hummed as you kissed his jaw. Stormy blue eyes blinked open, and then closed again as his lips found yours. Soft, sweet lips tugged up into a smile, arms drawing you in as he deepened the kiss with a sigh.

“What time is it?” he murmured.

“Still early, go back to sleep. You’ve got at least another hour before the hellions awaken,” you said with a soft laugh.

“Mmm…love you.”

“I love you too, sleepyhead.”

Bucky kissed you once more before he snuggled down into the sheets, burying his face in the pillows. You softly shut the door behind you, and crept down the hall and into the room next door. The one with the stars painted on the paneling, right above two names.

Henry and Emily.

Henry was still fast asleep, his unruly blond hair sticking out crazily in all directions as he clutched Honey Joe, his stuffed bear. The three-year-old slept like his father, flat on his back and limbs splayed, and he looked so angelic in the dim morning light that you couldn’t help but melt at the sight of him as you tucked in his blankets.

Across the room, lush chestnut curls peeked out from under a blanket. Little Emily was also sound asleep in her crib, curled in on herself with her thumb firmly lodged in her mouth. She also slept like her father.

A kiss to each of your children’s foreheads and you crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky step. Mornings were sacred to you, a needed quiet time before the chaos started.

 _Happy chaos, though,_ you thought with a smile.

You sat on the porch rocker with your book in your lap and a cup of coffee cooling by your elbow. Most mornings you eagerly dove in, but today you felt reflective, choosing instead to think about the significance that date had for you all, and how far you’d come in five short years.

April 28th.

It was the day you lost Bucky, and the day you found him again.

It was the day you almost fell over the precipice and lost yourself, and it was the day Steve had caught you, pulling you up and out of that deep, deep hole.

It was the day that your friendship with Steve had started to become something more, and it was a day you had always mourned Bucky. A day of love and loss, but now, it was a day of celebration.

It was the day you all decided to become a family.

It was the day Bucky’s daughter was born.

If you believed in fate, you would have called this life you were living inevitable. You didn’t though. You merely smiled at the coincidences, the meandering path your lives had taken to lead you to this very moment.

Soft footsteps behind you, and the screen door creaked open. Steve kept saying he wanted to fix it, but you wouldn’t let him. You liked the squeak.

A blanket was spread over your lap. Even after all these years, some things never changed.

“Morning, beautiful,” Steve said as he kissed your cheek. He settled down onto the porch rocker next to you. “Lazybones still asleep?”

“Only as long as Henry lets him.”

He laughed softly. Henry was going through his “Bucky phase,” and absolutely idolized the brunette.

Steve lifted his arm, and you scooted close to him. He gently tugged your chin up, capturing your lips with his. Soft and sweet, but with a woodsy ruggedness that betrayed the fire smoldering underneath. His beard tickled you, and you nipped his bottom lip playfully.

“Big day today,” he said as you settled back against him.

“I know. It’s gonna be a houseful.”

“Henry’s going to be so excited, he hasn’t seen Uncle Sam in a month.”

You giggled. “Make sure you call him that numerous times today, it never gets old.”

Steve chuckled, and nuzzled your hair. He was quiet, and you looked up at him.

“You okay?”

He smiled. “More than okay, Y/N.”

Steve stared out over the water, idly running his fingers over your curled legs. He frowned.

“I never thought that I could be this happy. I never thought I could have it all. My best friend and the woman I love, a family, children of my own…” he drifted off, shaking his head. “It seemed like there always had to be a sacrifice somewhere, but here, now…it feels like it’s all leveled out. The long, hard road that all three of us have traveled, and it all led to here in the end.”

You exhaled sharply, feeling your eyes start to burn. “Steve…”

“I love you, Y/N. I love you and I love our life, and I’m so glad you and Bucky stopped me that day.”

“Keeping you from doing something stupid is a full-time job, I’m glad I’ve got Bucky to help rein you in,” you said, teasing.

“He’s had plenty of experience,” Steve agreed.

“I love you, Steve,” you said. “And I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me too.” He rested his forehead against yours, and you opened yourself up, letting the emotions pass freely between you. When you pulled back, his eyes were shining with unshed tears, and you shared a long, slow kiss.

You were interrupted by a startled yelp upstairs, followed by laughter.

“Henry must be up,” Steve chuckled.

You both got up and went inside. Sure enough, Bucky appeared a few minutes later just as you were getting set up for breakfast, Henry perched piggy-back and grinning wildly.

“Emily was still conked out, so I let her be,” Bucky said as Henry climbed off his shoulders and into your arms. “She’s got a big day, she’s gonna need all the sleep she can get.”

“Morning hugs, Mama,” your son said as he wrapped his little arms around you.

“Morning hugs, baby.”

Henry gave you a big squeeze before he scampered into his father’s arms, and Steve shifted his coffee over so he could pull him onto his lap.

Finding out you were pregnant with Henry had changed everything. Both men had been equally excited and nervous—pregnancy was still a risky endeavor in the forties, and you’d had to educate them on the medical advances since then.

Regardless, both men acted like you were made out of glass, and treated you like a queen. Of course, they already did that for the most part, but finding out you were expecting kicked them into overdrive.

Steve had announced that the house was too small, and soon he and Bucky were tearing into the side of it, building an addition that would add two rooms and extend both the kitchen and the living room. You were literally not allowed to lift a finger, but they left all the interior designing up to you.

You suspected that the construction was a way for them to expend their nervous energy. There were a few times when you’d caught snippets of worried conversations between the two, and your heart melted seeing their love and concern for you and the unborn babe.

Henry was born in October, nine months to the day. A relatively easy pregnancy and birth, as you would find out later, and one that had changed all of your lives completely.

Bucky helped you finish up setting out the breakfast foods, and then sat down at the kitchen island next to Steve, tugging the newspaper over so he could look at it too.

“Aww, shit—”

“Language, Buck.”

“I mean, shoot. The Mets traded Balaska.”

Steve looked up from where he was feeding Henry a bite of his toast, and made a face. “I know. They’re gonna be hurtin’ on Saturday, I don’t know what they were thinking.”

The pair started to dissolve into a lengthy discussion of the Mets’ chances that year, but they were interrupted by a shrill cry from upstairs. Hastily, you set down your coffee and stood, but Bucky shooed you back down.

“Sit, doll, eat your breakfast—I’ll get her.”

Minutes later he reappeared, Emily fussing in his arms. “She wet through her diaper, I’m gonna go change the bedding before I forget about it.”

“I can do it, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, handing her off with a kiss to your temple. “I know you were up a couple times with her last night…”

“…and you _still_ got up early,” Steve finished. “Sit.”

You rolled your eyes at your two mother hens and sat back down at the island. Next to you, Henry was tucking into his own breakfast, shoving cereal in his mouth while he watched Thomas and Friends on his tablet. Both your children had voracious appetites—something else they inherited from their fathers.

To say mealtimes were hectic was an understatement. Yet there was an organization to the chaos that was the perfect metaphor for the life you had made together. Bucky always helped you prepare the meals, and Steve would help with the dishes. Steve was still banned from cooking—after his third kitchen fire, Bucky threatened physical violence if he so much as touched the stove again.

There was an ebb and flow to it all, a rhythm. All the little pieces clicking into place, sometimes a little rough around the edges, but it _worked_. It really worked.

That wasn’t to say everything had been easy for the three of you, and it didn’t mean that none of you’d had concerns about the arrangement in the beginning. Open communication and shared feelings had helped, though, with you serving as a bridge for emotions that could become messy if left on their own.

Sure, there’d been some arguments, and a few memorable fights, most notably when Steve and Bucky had returned home after their last mission, a little over a year ago now. Steve had been limping heavily, one arm slung over Bucky’s shoulders and blood matted in his hair, and when Bucky’s shirt later rode up to reveal two neatly bandaged bullet holes, you lost it.

Standing in the kitchen, patching up Steve while Bucky cradled Henry tightly against his chest. You’d raged and you’d fumed at them, but the haunted looks on their faces had stopped you before you really got started. Guilt and fear, so strong you didn’t even have to try to feel for it.

It was a sobering experience for you all, a reminder of how much was now at stake. The very next day they both submitted their letters of resignation to Fury—they’d given enough of their blood and their sweat for the Avengers.

It was time to rest and enjoy the life they’d fought so hard for.

Now they were retired. A strictly a “break-glass-in-case-of-emergency” scenario. Bucky would still occasionally help out with training, and Steve and Sam had certainly grown closer after the shield had been passed on, but for the most part they were enjoying the slower pace at home and the life they’d built with you.

You watched Emily play gleefully with her Cheerios, happily babbling away. You were so lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice Bucky slide into the seat next to you.

“I can’t believe she’s already one.”

“I know,” you said.

Bucky squeezed your shoulder, and you placed your hand over his. You didn’t have to try hard to read his emotions. He was reliving Emily’s difficult birth, and how he’d almost lost you both.

The stress of watching Steve and Bucky leave for missions had wreaked havoc on your stress levels. You used to be right there with them both, and you knew how dangerous the missions were. Tom and Edna checked in frequently, and it was Tom who had called them in a panic, telling them that you’d gone into premature labor and that Henry was at their house.

In the end, everything turned out fine. The traces of super soldier serum that flowed through your children’s veins protected them, and despite being born early Emily was perfectly healthy. That still didn’t ease Steve and Bucky’s guilt, and although they didn’t say as much, you knew it was a huge reason why they’d decided to retire.

Steve got up and started washing dishes, leaving you and Bucky to your private moment.

Surprisingly, jealousy really never reared its head too much. All three of you had lost—or nearly lost—each other in the past, wounds that still stung and reminded you why you chose this lifestyle to begin with. Some nights you would share Steve’s bed, and some nights Bucky’s. It was never really planned, you all just went with the flow of each other’s needs.

“So, what time’s everyone getting here?” Bucky asked as you cleaned Emily up and put her in her playpen. You ruffled Henry’s hair as you passed, but he was so absorbed in his trains that he hardly noticed.

“Four, I think?” you said.

“Good, I wanted to split up some more of that firewood,” Steve said. “It’s supposed to be warm tonight, and we could have a bonfire.”

“With Marshmallows?” Henry asked.

“Ask your Mama.”

“With marshmallows, baby,” you answered.

“Is Uncle Sam coming?”

“He’ll be a little late, but he’ll be here,” Steve said. “He told me to tell you he’s bringing a friend for Thomas.”

Henry whooped and went to go grab the rest of his trains.

The morning progressed on as the three of you fell into your routine. Steve and Bucky went for a run while you dressed the kids and started the laundry, picking up the stray odds and ends. They appeared on the porch nearly an hour later, both drenched in sweat, tight tee-shirts clinging to their sculpted physiques, and you felt heat rise to your face as well as somewhere…lower.

Both men smirked at seeing the look on your face, and you silently vowed they’d be the death of you.

“We’re gonna go tackle that woodpile, we don’t want to have to shower twice,” Steve said as you handed him two bottles of water. He stole a kiss that curled your toes, and Bucky wandered over to the woodpile, chuckling.

“Mama, can I play outside?” Henry tugged at your shirt.

You looked over to where the two men were setting up. “Can you guys keep an eye on him?”

Bucky nodded. “Just make sure you steer clear of us while we’re swinging these things, okay bud?”

Henry ran past you, hopping down the steps and racing out onto the pier. You weren’t worried in the slightest—you knew both men would watch him like hawks. It didn’t matter whether Henry was Steve’s or Emily was Bucky’s. Both men loved them like they were their own, and were fiercely protective of them.

You watched them as they worked. Even at their age, thirty-five-pushing forty, they still were both quite the specimens. Both were a little leaner, a little more grey in their hair, but their strength and their stamina hadn’t wanned in the least.

It was an unconventional relationship, to be sure. But anyone who had known the three of you for any length of time admitted it was the only right.

The wedding had been beautiful. Small and private, it was held right there at the cabin. Down at the water. There was no officiant, because it wasn’t a legal wedding. Instead, it was a promise between friends and lovers, witnessed by their most trusted friends.

You glanced down at the ring on your finger. Two bands of gold and silver, intertwined. You’d stood down by the bank and made promises to each other, affirmations of love that were witnessed and sanctified by your friends and the very ground you stood on.

You had worn a simple dress of resplendent white lace, your grooms in their best tux’s, and in the end, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

After both of your children were born, two tiny diamonds were added to your ring. Steve wore gold and Bucky wore silver, but in the end, it was you that held the true representation of your family on your finger.

Several hours later, the guests began arriving. You were all gathered in the living room. Henry looked dapper in a polo shirt and khakis, and Emily, well…

“Birthday girl’s all dolled up and ready for her party,” you announced as you carried her down the stairs. Both men’s face lit up seeing the cute gingham dress and saddle shoes, a tiny bow in her hair.

You set her on the floor and Henry hovered protectively over her as she stumbled towards Bucky’s outstretched arms.

“Oh, my god—look at those tiny little shoes!” Nat squealed.

Yes, Nat.

As it turned out, when Sam returned the Infinity Stone to the Soul Realm, Nat was returned in exchange—a soul for a soul.

“She’s adorable, she looks just like her Daddy,” Tom said. “Got her mother’s eyes, though.”

Bucky beamed, and kissed Emily on the top of her head.

Dinner came and went. In the giddy aftermath you hung back, smiling as you sipped your glass of wine and let all the emotions wash over you.

Everyone you loved in this world under one roof.

Nat holding Emily, fussing at her hair while she talked with Rhodey.

Bucky and Bruce talking animatedly, while Pepper laughed at something Sam said. It was good to see her laugh.

Morgan was elbow deep in Thomas trains with Henry, building an elaborate track that Tony would have been proud of. Steve and Rhodey helped out, making suggestions here and there. 

So much happiness. So much love, all under one roof.

“Hey doll—you okay?” A metal hand slid around your waist, and you leaned against its owner with a sigh. You closed your eyes, and pushed the emotions you were feeling to him.

Bucky huffed and wiped his eyes, the strength of your emotions momentarily overwhelming him.

“I’m better than fine,” you said, echoing Steve’s words from that morning. “I see this, what we’ve built here, and I just…”

“I know,” he murmured against your ear. “I love you. So, so much.”

“Five years,” you said.

“I know. And our baby girl is one. Henry is three, almost four…”

“Time flies,” you said. “In the blink of an eye.”

Bucky sobered, and you knew he was thinking about his five lost years. You tilted his chin up.

“I love you too, Bucky. Always.”

Games were played, laughter shared. The cake was lit and the birthday girl—confusedly and with much prompting—blew out the candles, and presents were opened. Soon, goodbyes were being said, and Steve and Bucky helped you get the kids ready for bed.

The day had worn both Henry and Emily out. It took no coaxing at all to get them through the bath and into bed, stories read and covers tucked tight.

By nine o’clock, you were all cuddled on the couch together while an old black and white movie played on tv.

You sighed happily, tucked into a cradle of warmth. A super soldier sandwich. Two men, as different as two sides of the same coin, but you loved them both with all of your heart.

Soon, your eyes grew heavy. “I think I’m gonna head up.”

A silent conversation between the three of you happened within the space of a heartbeat, and Steve sat up. “I think I will too.”

“Good,” Bucky said, stretching out on the couch. “There’s a _Modern Marvels_ marathon on, and I can finally watch it without you two making fun of me.”

You’d felt his emotions, and you understood. April 28th was a complex day for you all, and while Bucky had his time with you last night, he understood your need to be with Steve tonight.

The push and pull of it all, emotions shared and never shied away from. You and Steve headed up to bed, and the smile Bucky gave you was genuine.

Later, you lay with Steve in a tangle of limbs, long after the house had gone silent.

“Today was a good day,” you whispered. Steve’s arms wrapped just a little bit tighter around your body, the steady cadence of his heart drumming beneath your ear.

“It was.”

“I used to hate this day. Dreaded it.”

“Me too.” He smoothed his hand down your back, making you shiver. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Do you really have to ask that?”

“No…but I like to, anyway.”

“I am,” you whispered. “Truly.”

The moon rose high over the little cabin in the woods, throwing sparkles over the water and dancing over the waves.

That homey little cabin.

Beneath its roof, the lines of friendship had been blurred. Love had been lost, and love had been found. Love had been resurrected and rediscovered. Boundaries redefined.

And ultimately—and most importantly—a family lived beneath that roof, in all its happy chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with this one! This one has been a long journey for me, and I'm sad to see it end. Thank you to everyone for your kudos and comments and support, it really means a lot to me!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @constantreader85


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